Blue Moon
by AdmiralCats
Summary: (Bad Company: Book 9) Drake expects his time in Australia to be restless and boring, but he soon finds his hands full after Dr. Delhoun undergoes surgery and can't work for several days. His companions aren't the best of help, leaving Drake alone in caring for all the Annexers and uncovering a horrible lie in his friend's past.
1. Chapter 1

I didn't realize just how empty the base was after everyone had left. After grabbing my duffel bag to head out to Delhoun's, I took one last look around, noting how quiet it was, and was glad that I didn't have to stay here by myself for the next week.

Hudson and I couldn't accompany the rest of the squad to the Moon because we were both exposed to a toxic plant known as a silver flower. The poison takes forever to leave your system, and when you go into cryosleep, it sits and transitions to a liquid form. Basically, we can't go on any missions that require space travel for a month, until we get cleared.

After taking a ferry to Brisbane, I searched the dock's parking lot for Delhoun's car. "Look for a jeep that looks like someone couldn't decide whether to fix it up or leave it in the junkyard," I said to Hudson.

"I can easily make you sleep outside, Drake." It turned out Delhoun was right next to us, glaring at me from the driver's seat of his modified jeep.

"Sorry," I said.

"I do a lot for you. The least you could do is not tell people that my vehicle looks like junk." Delhoun unlocked his car, allowing me and Hudson to toss our stuff in the back before we climbed in. "Right. Now-" Delhoun looked over his shoulder at Hudson, "I don't believe we've been properly introduced."

"You're the albino doctor who gave me CPR, right?" Hudson said.

"Yes. My name is Rykell Delhoun. You'll see what I do when we get home."

"Drake already told me your job is to play with animals all day."

Delhoun glanced at me. "You really couldn't come up with something better?"

"No, sir." I smirked. "I mean, I didn't want to make his head explode."

Aside from that little joke, we didn't talk much on the way to Delhoun's facility, which is an old high school he converted into a care center for Annexers. As soon as we got out of the car, I could see Winnie perched by a window, her tail flicking back and forth excitedly. "Drake, you'll be in my bedroom again," Delhoun said. "The couch wasn't bad last time you stayed, correct?"

"It was fine."

"And . . . I'll figure out something with you, Hudson." Delhoun opened the main doors, and we were greeted by excited screeching. Winnie sprinted over, and jumped in my arms, happily nuzzling my neck and face.

I didn't need a tour of the facility, so while Delhoun was showing Hudson around, I sat on the floor to play with Winnie. She pressed herself against my chest and belly, cooing as she kneaded my right leg. I was glad that someone was happy to see me, because I was already missing Vasquez. That longing feeling hit me like a ton of bricks, and the sad sigh I gave prompted Winnie to look up at me before she removed her helmet. She sniffed my face and licked my cheek, as if she was trying to tell me that everything will be OK.

* * *

I constantly wonder why sadness is such a hardy emotion, while happiness is easily blown away, like a feather in the wind. Or, am I just not meant to be happy all the time? Only a few hours earlier, I found out I passed my equivalency test and got my diploma. I should be happy. I mean, I was happy for about two minutes, and then I returned to reality. I can imagine most other people would be happy, and telling people about their achievements. Here was me, feeling like the world's biggest failure.

I showed Delhoun the letter and the diploma itself when we got some alone time. His ruby eyes widened with shock when he looked at my scores for the test. "A 'B' is incredible," he said. "I'm amazed."

"I didn't think I was that smart," I muttered.

"You did receive a little bit of help, though. Thank God no one picked up on that." Delhoun smirked, handing the papers back to me. "You ought to be proud of yourself."

"Well . . . I wish I was proud of myself. I got that medal, and I got my diploma, but I still don't feel better. I know I was happy for a little bit, but I don't know why that feeling . . . won't stay."

"It's not a natural feeling for you. You've been depressed for quite some time-"

"OK, make up your mind; do I have PTSD or depression?"

"Do I look like a psychologist to you? No. I'm not referring to depression the illness. I'm referring to it as a mood. Everyone experiences a period of depression at some point in their lives. It's generally not long-lived. It becomes a problem when you start isolating yourself and losing interest in daily activities. This heavy sadness and frustration is your primary emotion. When you have no idea how to feel, that's what you turn to, because it's been with you for so long. Besides, if you do have post-traumatic stress, depression oftentimes accompanies it."

"Never thought of it that way." I rubbed my face. "I'm sorry I'm . . . dumping everything on you."

"Don't worry about it. Tomorrow's going to be a bad day and I'd like to have some things to keep my mind occupied."

"Why?"

"I start my fast in the morning. I can't eat for twenty-four hours before the surgery."

"So, you're gonna be cranky. Great."

"I don't recall you being pleasant when you're hungry."

"That's because I'm not."

* * *

As a treat, Delhoun took me, Hudson, and Aran out to dinner at a seafood restaurant that overlooked the harbor. Aran was intrigued by the giant fish tank in the center of the building and spent most of the time staring at it. More than once, the Engineer has made me wish that I wasn't worried about things that went on in my head, and this was one of those times. "I wish I had your curiosity, Aran," I mumbled.

Hudson wasn't all that certain what to have. Unlike me, he hasn't had any chances to go out into the civilian world and eat real food, and I imagine his system is going to be shocked by the fact that whatever he orders hasn't been freeze-dried or powdered. Delhoun looked over at him, and said, "The salmon or the blackened tilapia would probably be best. Least likely to upset your stomach."

Hudson's response was, "Fuck you, man, I'm getting the deep-fried platter."

I grinned, choosing not to say anything. It would be best to just let Hudson learn his lesson the hard way.

Delhoun rolled his eyes. "Fine. Get whatever you want." He glanced at me and Aran. "Which one of you is going to be the designated driver?"

"Oh, Aran is. I'm getting alcohol," I said.

It was quiet up until we got our drinks. I wasn't sure what we could all talk about. Everything on my mind would probably sap everyone's appetite, and I didn't want to do that, so I settled on something mundane. "What's your plan for when you're in surgery?" I asked Delhoun.

"The procedure is supposed to take an hour. I don't want to make you sit in the waiting room for that long, so you can drive around Brisbane for all I care. Just be back in time to get me," Delhoun replied. "Afterwards, I need stuff from the grocery store, and that's basically it. The rest of the day will be routine; take the Annexers out, play with them, clean their kennels. Don't touch Dakota's cage. Make sure everyone has fresh food and clean water. There are two Annexers expecting kits-they're very gentle, so it'll be easy to check them over. Just make sure they're eating and drinking. If the cage doesn't smell right, let me know."

"Sounds like common sense to me," I said.

"Exactly. Please, don't fuck it up."

I asked Delhoun a lot of simple questions about where things are located. I could tell this was making him anxious, and he even told me that if this was a one-day thing, he'd be OK. He's going to be blind for three days.

"I feel like that's enough time for something to go horribly wrong, and I can't do anything about it." At that moment, Delhoun flinched as his right cheek was suddenly sprayed with warm butter when Hudson bit down on a large scallop. He took a deep breath, and glared at Hudson.

"Sorry," Hudson muttered with his mouth full.

"You better be sorry."

* * *

The sun had almost completely set by the time we left the restaurant. Driving back with the dark-orange hue at our backs, we all sort of kicked back while Aran was at the wheel. Delhoun was slightly tipsy, droning on about the different Canadian provinces he's visited. ". . . What better way to introduce me to travel than to take me to the barren wasteland that is the Yukon?" he slurred. "They got more bears than people up there. No, you wanna know where civilization really goes to die? The Northwest Territories and its lovely neighbor Nunavut. What they should do is make a great big Christmas village up on Ellesmere Island, and get some old fat guy to play Santa Claus all year round. There's your North Pole without actually going to the North Pole."

"And you can open up your own pancake restaurant there," I added. "When you quit playing with Annexers, of course."

"Exactly! Arctic tourism is such an underrated business."

While Delhoun continued to talk to himself as we got back to his facility, I went to take a shower, and found that I really liked having my own bathroom back on base. The old locker room showers hadn't been converted to something . . . more luxurious. They reminded me a lot of prison showers, which is something I don't want to experience again.

It wasn't as bad when you were completely alone, but something about standing naked in a large room was uncomfortable. Maybe it was the memories associated both with prison showers and high school locker rooms, but it could also be the memory of standing in front of a doctor processing me for boot camp. I can remember I was the skinniest and least in shape of the other recruits. The doctor looked over me, made me stand on a scale, made me bend over so he could run his cold finger up and down my spine. It seemed endless, and worst part was that while most recruits got to go home for a few weeks before shipping out, I had to stay behind and be shipped out as soon as I was processed. I had no home.

Scratch that: I _have_ no home. The word has almost no meaning for me. I've heard some of the others talk about home, how they'll "go home" when they get discharged. I secretly wished I had a place that I could refer to as home, but I feel like that's definitely the most impossible thing I could wish for.

I left the showers and dropped my dirty laundry in Delhoun's room. I know it was a little early, but I wanted to go to bed anyway. I've been lying on the couch for the last hour or so, writing down everything that's happened since Hudson and I left the base. Delhoun didn't even bother saying anything when he came in not that long ago, and I don't envy the hangover he's going to have in the morning. I just hope he's not going to be too much of a pain during his fast tomorrow.

* * *

I woke up to Winnie carrying a package of raw chicken legs in her jaws. She was sitting by the couch, cooing at me. Glancing over at the bed, I saw Delhoun was still fast asleep, and I wasn't going to bother waking him. Groaning, I got off the couch and pulled a pair of socks on before walking stiffly down to the kitchen. Winnie trotted after me, and leaped up on the counter when we got to the kitchen. Aran was cracking eggs over a frying pan, and a very pale and very green Hudson was at the table, looking as though he had a really rough night.

"Lemme guess," I said, "You had the shits?"

Hudson nodded.

"Didn't Delhoun tell you not to order something so greasy? Your body's not used to real food."

"Let's just pretend that didn't happen, man," Hudson replied.

After covering the eggs with a sheet of aluminum foil, Aran gently set a cup of steaming tea in front of Hudson, and patted his head. I sat at the table, and Winnie screeched at me. "Oh, alright." Standing back up, I took the package from her and opened it over the sink, taking out a chicken leg and tossing it to her. "There. Happy now?"

She carried the leg over to a pair of metal bowls and began tearing into it. I put a clip on the bag before placing it in the fridge, and sat back down at the table. "I hope we just do nothing today," I muttered.

"I hope I can have a solid number two today," Hudson added.

I sighed. "Alright, no one wants to know that, dude."

Aran nodded in a agreement as he set plates of fried eggs and a stack of toast on the table, along with butter and a small tub of chocolate hazelnut spread. He joined as after setting a plate of bacon in between me and Hudson, and passed a cup of coffee to me. As we dug into our breakfasts, Delhoun stumbled into the room, his white-blond hair sticking up in every direction. He looked at Aran, and said, "Did you make all this?"

The Engineer nodded.

"You realize I can't eat today, right?"

Another nod.

"Then why'd you cook so much?"

Aran shrugged.

Delhoun glanced at me. "How'd you sleep last night?"

"Fine," I replied with my mouth full.

"No nightmares?"

"Nope."

"Good." Delhoun looked at Hudson. "You look like someone punched you and then hung you upside-down. I did tell you not to order the damn deep-fried platter, didn't I?"

Hudson rolled his eyes. "There's no pleasing you, is there?"

"Come on, guys, behave," I said. "Delhoun has to fast, and Hudson had the shits. Try to be civil with each other."

* * *

I had a feeling that it would be some time before Delhoun and Hudson even remotely acted civil toward each other. I didn't want to be there if they started squabbling, so I left the building and killed time by walking around the city. Just walking around doesn't stop you from getting lost in your thoughts, and I kept thinking about Vasquez. At this point, she was probably in hypersleep with the rest of the squad on their way to the Moon. I wondered if she was dreaming about me, and missing me. I know I missed her. Frankly, I was already regretting my decision to stay with Delhoun, though, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't suffering from anxiety about his surgery. I should be more sympathetic. After all, he's done a lot for me, and I really haven't done a lot for him.

My boredom led me to a large shopping mall in the middle of downtown Brisbane. Three floors of all different kinds of shops surrounded a giant fountain. In the fountain was a miniature version of the city, complete with tiny palm trees. The very bottom of the fountain was covered in coins, and I reached into my pocket to pull out a penny. I don't think flipping a penny into a fountain is going to grant me good luck or a wish or whatnot, but some part of me wanted to do anything just to make happiness in my life. I though about last night and how I told myself that wishing I had a home was downright impossible.

I felt like that was too much for a penny, so I simply wished something good would happen to me. Doesn't matter if it happens today or tomorrow. I don't care. Just something to take my mind off the possibility that I have PTSD, something to take my mind off missing Vasquez, something to take my mind off everything that hurt me. With that, I flipped the penny into the fountain, watching it sink and rest on top of the coins that were already there.

Instead of feeling hopeful, I felt tired. It was too early in the day for me to be tired, but it wasn't unusual. That tired feeling was accompanied by a painful loneliness, and I'll never understand how I feel so alone when I'm surrounded by hundreds of people.

* * *

 _Question of the Chapter: Would Drake react differently if Vasquez got to stay instead of Hudson? Or would the shock of staying in a different environment have the same reaction?_

 _Author's Note: I feel like this is a rather "junky" start. Not a lot of major plot elements have been introduced, specifically when it comes to character-vs.-character conflict. We have Drake thinking about the meaning of "home," and the fountain scene to introduce his typical internal conflicts. I like the penny scene despite how short it is. Thinking about this tough guy standing in the middle of a mall and doing something so mundane as throwing a coin into a fountain is interesting to say the least. I know I've made this character so human over the last five stories, but there's a lot more that just fleshes him out every single page.  
_

 _Along with that, we have an increasingly vulnerable Delhoun who's unsure if he can trust Drake and Hudson with his work. He can trust Drake, but he sure can't trust Hudson, for multiple reasons. Speaking of Hudson, one question is driving me nuts: are his eyes blue or brown? Even close-up pictures aren't giving a clear answer. The NECA figure has them a bright, almost unnatural blue, while several stills from the movie are too dark to tell. Even dark shots show that Drake has blue eyes, but Hudson's are too dark to be blue, though there are some shades that are darker than others. I don't know; it's irritating because describing eye color adds detail to character and emotion, and I'd like to get things accurate._


	2. Chapter 2

Good luck is one of those things that can fall into your lap. The issue with it is that it does so on its own time, and it's impossible to predict. When I left the mall, I wondered if I could force the feeling of being hopeful on myself, but how? It wasn't possible to reach anything that could make me happy. There was no way to contact Vasquez. Even if she wasn't in hypersleep, contacting her and requesting her alone would be suspicious to the other members of the squad.

However, there was one other person that I could talk to, if she wasn't busy.

In a small building by city hall, I spent several minutes going through a file before placing a long-distance call to Washington, D.C. It was fairly annoying going through the university's robotic processor in order to reach Miranda Harrison, the med student who helped me find information on the lab Hudson had been held in. Our story is a little complicated, to be honest, because she developed a crush on me and I played along with it in order to keep the information coming. At least we settled on being friends in the end.

A female voice said, "Hello? Who is this?"

"It's Mark," I replied. "Are you busy right now?"

"Not really. Why?" Miranda sounded tired, almost like she had got done crying.

"Well, I just . . . wanted to talk to you, and see how you were doing."

She didn't answer right away. I heard a heavy sigh, and then she said, "There's a lot that I wish I could say, but I only have a ten-minute window here. You know Nathan McKay? The Marine you pointed out was single? I actually went on a few dates with him, and . . . it wasn't working out."

"What happened?"

"He was kinda convinced that I was trying to compare him to you, and then convinced himself that he wasn't 'as good' as you, so he quit. It's both our faults, really. He asked about some of the things I did with previous boyfriends, like places we went or gifts they gave me. I made the mistake of telling him about how you were very emotionally involved and how that was something I didn't want to throw away. I guess he interpreted that as I wasn't ready to give up on you."

"You did give up on me, right?" I asked. "Because you know I'm taken."

"I know you are, Mark, and it wasn't something I wanted to bring up because I've been thinking about it. I mean, if everything else wasn't going on, we would've never known the other existed, but it all had to align in just the right spot." She sighed again. "Is it wrong of me to wish that things had ended differently?"

"No, I don't think it's wrong. If you understand that it's not possible for things to change, and you accept it, then there's no harm in wishing or dreaming. I don't care, at least, just as long as you don't try to sabotage my relationship with my girlfriend. I love her. It doesn't mean I don't care about you; we're friends. If you need something, I'll help you. That's . . . That's how friendship works. You know, not every bond you have with a guy has to be romantic."

I could picture Miranda smiling a little bit. "Thanks." She was silent for a moment. "Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Not specifically. I'm stuck in Australia while everyone else is on a mission, so I'm a little bored. Hey, I could probably hop on a jet to the States and visit you, but that's a twenty-fucking-hour flight and the jet lag is a pain. Plus, a friend of mine is getting surgery tomorrow and he needs help afterward."

"Oh, geez, what happened?"

"It's some kind of routine procedure that has to do with his albinism, I think. I dunno, I didn't get the full details."

"Ah. Is it for his eyes? Lack of melanin hinders development of the optic nerves."

"Yeah, it is. He said he had the same procedure years ago." I frowned. "Please don't tell me they did something like this to your android."

Miranda laughed. "No, Mathias is OK. For now. Tonight's the night the university takes him back and breaks him again. He's getting better about not crying so much."

"That's good."

"Yeah. Hey, um . . . I have to get going. Mark? I . . . can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You know I'm graduating next year, right?"

"I know now."

"Would you . . . come to the ceremony? For support?"

"Isn't your family going?"

"Of course they are, but I'd . . . I'd like you there."

"I'll think about it. That all depends on what I'm doing then. If I'm not out with the Marines, I'll try to go."

"Thanks, Mark. Talk to you later."

"Yeah. Talk to you later." I hung up the phone, not feeling better or worse than I did before I made that call.

* * *

I guess it made me feel worse. Either that, or Miranda wasn't the right friend to talk to. After all, I faked a romantic relationship with her, but she actually loved me back. Vasquez sure wasn't happy about that, but at least she believed me when I said I did it for Hudson. I can't tell Miranda that I feel bad whenever I talk to her because I did something wrong, because then she would feel bad, and that doesn't make for a healthy friendship.

When I returned to Delhoun's facility, I didn't see anyone in the kitchen or the kennel room. I saw Aran was in the yard, and as I ventured further in the building, I found Delhoun in his bedroom. "How're you doing?" I asked.

"I'm very tired," Delhoun replied. "I can't wait until this is over."

"Only a few more hours," I said. I'm not that good at being reassuring, damn my soul. Frankly, I decided it was best to leave him alone.

With nothing else to do, I decided to clean up and sit around for the rest of the afternoon. I found Hudson in the showers, and I was greeted with, "What the hell, man, can't you knock?"

"Oh, shut up, I've seen you naked before," I muttered, laying my nightclothes on a rack before taking my shirt off. "Not something I want to experience again, but, what choice do I have?"

"No one wants to see you naked, either, Drake."

 _Vasquez does, but I'm certainly not telling you that._ "You'd probably look better if you waxed your chest. In the unlikely event you get a girlfriend, she doesn't want to feel like she's petting a rough-haired animal."

"Aw, man, I don't think you get it; I _am_ an animal."

 _And this is why you're single._ I couldn't think of anything smart to say to that. "You realize we gotta get up early tomorrow."

"That's different from a regular day how?"

"No one's gonna yell at us. All we're doing is taking someone to the hospital, and then we drive around aimlessly for an hour." I turned the water off. "You can stay here, if you want. I really don't care. I can drive Delhoun in on my own."

Hudson glanced at me. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You suddenly seem annoyed."

"Of course I'm annoyed. I'd rather be with everyone else instead of down here."

"You know why that doesn't make sense?" Hudson turned off the showerhead above him, and grabbed his towel. "Doesn't make sense because you pretty much hate all of us."

"That's not true."

"Yeah it is. Even when no one's joking around, you treat everyone like crap."

"No one's given me a reason to give two shits. I'll save your ass on the battlefield, but I'm not going to care about anyone else's problems. Why? Because no one's really cared about mine, and I'm sick and tired of having to cut myself open just to explain why I want to be left alone. The fact that we were both poisoned by metal daisies is the only thing you and I have in common. That's it."

"I'm sure that's not the only thing, man."

"Oh, yeah? Tell me, do you have friends back where you grew up?"

"Yep."

"Do you actually have a structure that you can call home?"

"Yep."

"Did you complete high school?"

"Barely passed, yeah."

"Do you have a thousand regrets that haunt your dreams and make you regret your fucking existence?"

"Not . . . really."

"Then we have nothing in common." I stuffed my dirty clothes in a plastic bag. "The minute everyone goes their separate ways, no one's gonna be calling each other up to talk. I highly doubt any of you want to see my face again. You can go back to your homes, forget serving alongside me. That's fine with me. I don't want to see any of you, either."

"Seriously, Drake, what's bothering you?"

"Does it really matter to you? Does it?! This is just like Hicks a few days ago! Why should I believe that you really want to help me when all we know about each other is that we serve in the same fucking unit?!"

"Come on, Drake, you trusted me a couple days ago. Snap out of it, man."

"Oh, piss off!" I threw my towel at him before storming out of the locker room.

* * *

To be honest, I'm not sure why I snapped at Hudson. I shouldn't have; I do remember trusting him with the fact that I've said some things that sound like I want to hurt myself. I do remember trying to help him. What good reason do I have to snap at him?

I didn't say anything about it to Delhoun. He's got enough on his mind, and I feel like I need to settle this out myself. For about two hours, we were lying awake watching TV. Delhoun was in his bed, stroking Winnie, and I was on the couch, writing in my journals. At one point, my pen ran out of ink, and after rummaging around my duffel bag, I couldn't find any extras. "Shit," I muttered, "Left that box in my room."

"What box?" Delhoun asked, not looking away from the television.

"I bought a large box of pens and I forgot to bring it with me."

"What kind of point do you prefer? One millimeter? Point seven?"

"Uh . . . point seven."

"Top drawer of my desk. There's a box already open. Keep the one you take, free of charge."

"Thanks." I opened the drawer, but didn't find any pens. Instead, I found a document, listing names and I.D. numbers of Annexers. For a moment, I thought it was an adoption form, but there were around ten names. Way too much to be an adoption. "Who adopts ten animals at once?"

"The Brisbane community center," Delhoun replied. "They were testing out a program for people with special needs to bond with Annexers after I published a paper on how the animals' behavior can change if they sense human suffering. Keep in mind it was merely a hypothesis; their personalities won't change, but they can become docile temporarily. I gave them a stern warning that mishandling can negate that aspect. Abrupt approaches, loud noises, tail-pulling, you name it. Anything that'll disturb a normal pet, like a cat or dog, will piss off an Annexer."

"Did they have you examine the project?"

"Surprisingly, no. As soon as the adoption was complete, I got nothing. But, they do send me Christmas photographs when I'm living in the area."

"Who's in charge of it?"

"A former Weyland-Yutani scientist. Doctor Garrett, I believe his name is. By the way, that wasn't the drawer I was referring to. I'm sorry. It's the little one, to the left."

I felt bad for accidentally coming upon Delhoun's personal documents, but he didn't seem to mind. After putting the paper back where I found it, I opened the smaller drawer, and pulled out an open box of pens. I returned to the couch, and finished up my entry before closing the book for the night. When I tucked the pen and journal back in my bag, I glanced at the TV, taking notice of the American baseball game onscreen. My heart sank a little when I saw it was the Pittsburgh Pirates against the Chicago Cubs. "I used to sneak into the Pittsburgh stadium," I said, softly.

Delhoun snorted. "How'd that go?"

"It was fun the first couple of times. I wasn't much of a baseball fan, but I liked to know how the team was doing just so I didn't look like an outcast. After awhile, it turned into an escape. I knew my hiding spot like the back of my hand, and during the season, I would buy food from a convenience store and park there for a few hours."

"What were you escaping from?"

"Life, in general. I just didn't want to be bothered."

Delhoun decided not to press further. He moved his thumb to change the channel on the remote, but looked at me and said, "Do you want me to leave it here?"

"No. You can change it if you want."

Delhoun turned the television off, and set the remote on his nightstand. "We've got to get up in the morning," he sighed. "Good night, Drake."

The room was engulfed by darkness, save for the gentle moonlight spilling in through the cracks of the window blinds. I stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. My thoughts were everywhere, and I wished they could just settle down for the night. Vasquez and the others had to be on the Moon by now. Again, I wondered if she was thinking of me, and maybe even worrying about me.

When I did fall asleep, it was a bit of a mistake that my last thought was Vasquez. My nightmares took complete advantage over that. I was running down a glass hallway. The air was heavy with the silver flower toxin. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Vasquez laying on the floor. With no concern for my own safety, I ran back to get her. I tried to convince myself that she was going to be OK, but I was starting to lose my breath. My legs became weak, and I fell. I kept my head and Vasquez's head close to the ground. "Someone'll find us," I gasped. "Right?"

Nope. A masked Hicks ran by us. He paused, looking down at us, and then dashed away. I screamed for him to come back, but I ended up screaming in real life. When I realized what was happening, Delhoun was standing next to me, holding my shoulder.

"Drake? Drake, it's OK. You're having a nightmare," he said, gently shaking me.

I gasped for breath, trying to tell myself that I was alright. Eventually, just as Delhoun was about to get an emergency breath mask, I calmed down. My breathing became more even, and I knew _I_ was alright, but what about Vasquez? "Is she OK?" I sobbed.

"Who?"

"Vasquez. I need to know if she's OK."

"Drake, it was just a nightmare. She's with your squad. I'm pretty sure she's alright." Delhoun squeezed my shoulder. "Everything's OK."

Nodding slightly, I slowly lowered myself back onto the pillow. My heart was still pounding, and I wasn't satisfied with what Delhoun told me. Upon noticing that, Delhoun decided to make me a cup of hot chocolate. It was two in the morning, but you can't say "no" to hot chocolate. It wasn't going to make me feel better, but it was a nice gesture.

"Just set the cup on the nightstand when you're done," Delhoun said after handing me the drink. "I'm going back to sleep."

* * *

We didn't that much sleep afterwards. At five-thirty AM, the alarm clock started beeping. Winnie started screeching at the device, and was about to swat it off the table when Delhoun reached over to slap the clock.

I grabbed a pair of pants from my bag, which Winnie took great interest in. I didn't notice her until I bent down to grab a T-shirt. "That's my underwear, you little pervert," I said, snatching a pair of boxers from her jaws.

Winnie jumped on the bed, clearly baffled by all the commotion. Delhoun threw on a pair of shorts and a plain black T-shirt. "We have to get going," he said. "You stay, Winnie."

She squeaked at him.

"Sorry." Delhoun grabbed some papers from his desk. "Come on, Drake."

I followed him out into the hall, and asked, "Can we grab some coffee?"

"No. We have to go." Delhoun pushed open the door to another converted classroom. "Aran? Aran! Wake up!"

Looking over Delhoun's shoulder, I saw Aran sit up, and give Delhoun a tired look.

"We're leaving. Take care of everyone, OK?"

"Hey, wait for me!" Hudson emerged from under a pile of blankets on the floor.

"Why do you want to come?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter. Hurry up!" Delhoun hissed. "And get some clothes on, for Christ's sake!"

* * *

As we were driving to the hospital, I was nodding off in the passenger seat. The drive really wasn't that long, but hovering between conscious and subconscious states made the drive seem significantly longer. When we passed through downtown Brisbane, Delhoun turned on the radio, listening for the weather forecast. Traffic gradually got heavier, and Delhoun cursed every time we were almost lodged between two other cars.

It was six o'clock by the time we arrived at the hospital. We walked into a lobby that felt more like it was part of a hotel, and I think I figured out why; the atmosphere would be calming to patients who simply aren't comfortable in a hospital setting, but there were some areas where this failed. One were the typical advisory posters on various diseases, the TV screens showing ads for new medicines and programs on treatments, and the signs pointing in the direction of the exam rooms, operating rooms, you know the drill.

Delhoun approached the front desk, and was directed to another room, where other patients would wait for surgeries of their own. It was small, square room, with only two windows. The walls were completely white, and the only thing you could do to entertain yourself was read a magazine. All electronics had to be off to avoid disrupting nearby equipment. Even if you did try turning a phone on, this room seemed to be a black spot on the grid; no signal, period.

There was no one in the room, aside from us. I didn't like how close together the chairs were, especially since I was stuck between Delhoun and Hudson. We were staring at a single door, where a nurse would come out and beckon Delhoun to follow her to wherever they were going to prep him. It seemed to be taking forever. I noticed Hudson was getting a little fidgety. He took his dogtags off and began twirling them around his fingers. All I could do was hope he didn't have a panic attack.

Eventually, that door opened, and an older woman said, "Delhoun?"

Standing up and sighing, Delhoun looked at me and Hudson. "Don't get into any trouble," he ordered. "That's all."

"Whatever you say," I muttered. "Have fun."

* * *

 _Question of the Chapter: Should Drake ever attempt to visit Miranda? Why or why not?_


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was finally spilling its light over the eastern horizon as Hudson and I got in Delhoun's car to drive around aimlessly for the next hour. I think we both remembered last night and how I got upset at Hudson for no reason, so we really didn't talk to each other. At some point, we were going to have to talk about what happened, but now didn't feel like the right time.

I certainly wasn't going to talk to Hudson without a cup of strong coffee first, but I was really down on my luck when I stopped in the parking lot of a diner to find that there weren't a lot of spaces open.

"Jesus, by the time we actually get a spot, it'll be time to go get Delhoun," Hudson said.

"I'm not waiting that long," I replied, driving around the building, seeing four open spaces. "Thank God."

"Those are for handicapped people."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Alright, let's go find another place." As I approached the entrance to the parking lot, a couple of idiots decided they wanted to leave the lot, too. One of them was just sitting there, even though he had plenty of time to go. Behind the clueless driver was the embodiment of the "soccer mom" trope; a large, dirty van with those stick-figure stickers on the back windshield that let the world know that you have three athletic kids, two dogs, and you went to Disney World. At one point, I saw Cheerios fly around the inside of the van, then someone's yogurt tube popped and a stream of it flew into the air.

Hudson glanced at me. "I'm so hungry that yogurt and Cheerios sounds pretty good right now."

The clueless driver finally turned, and then the van stopped, waiting for a long line of traffic to pass by. One of the kids turned around in his booster seat and stuck his tongue out at me and Hudson. I stuck up my middle finger at the kid, and finally the van turned into traffic. What was worse was that we were following the van, and now all the kids were trying to make faces at us.

"I'm changing lanes," I said, waiting for a taxi to pass before I moved into the next lane. As we tried to get ahead of the van, the woman apparently figured out that I flipped off her kid and decided to flip me off as well. I rolled my eyes, not wanting to care.

We found a diner in a plaza that had at least a hundred more parking spaces than the last one. After parking, I realized that I didn't have any money, and neither did Hudson, but after searching around the vehicle, we found something tucked in the compartment between the driver and passenger seat; an envelope full of cash.

"Either Delhoun knew we were going to forget our own money, or he cashed a check and didn't take the money out of the car," I said.

"I don't know, man, should we ask him first?"

"Hudson," I sighed, "why were we at the hospital?"

"So Delhoun can have surgery."

"Tell me, do you think it's possible we can ask him at this minute?"

Hudson shook his head, and then something finally clicked in his brain. "Oh, yeah."

"Look, if you don't want to use this money, fine, but I'm starving, and I want some fucking coffee. I'm pretty sure Delhoun will understand."

Hudson nodded. "OK, if you say so."

I was happy to see that this diner wasn't as crowded as the one we tried getting in not that long ago. We didn't have to wait to be seated, and we were even given cups of black coffee before being pointed in the direction of a small station where we could fix it how we liked it.

Hudson's really simple when it comes to his coffee, while I got a little greedy with the flavored creamers. I was about to add an extra teaspoon of hazelnut into my cup when a man next to me said, "USCM?"

I glanced at him. "Yeah. Why?"

He set his cup down to hold out his hand. "Just wanna thank you for your service, sir."

My brain was suddenly flooded with memories. _I'm not the guy you want to thank. Go thank Hudson. He's done more than me._ I'm not going to waste ink by going through every self-destructive thought that pounded itself into my head. By now, you know what I was thinking. I suddenly had a feeling like a firework had exploded at the center of my memories, and I wanted to burst into tears. Without bothering to shake the guy's hand, I hurried to the restroom, closing and locking the door behind me.

Why did it take so little to push me so far downhill? _It shows just how weak I really am. I just embarrassed myself in front of everyone in the building!_ This was worse than if I had puked in front of the guy. Honestly, I would've preferred to throw up on myself.

"Drake? Are you OK?" Hudson knocked on the door.

Either I push him away or I tell him what's wrong. A strong part of me was saying to just push him away, but I couldn't put up with the overwhelming feeling of being alone. "No, I'm not OK."

"Can you unlock the door?"

Sighing, I unlocked the door and opened it. I couldn't believe I was facing Hudson with streaks of tears on my cheeks. I was afraid that when things returned to normal, he was going to blab to everyone that he saw me cry.

"What happened?" he asked. "Some guy was trying to thank you for your service and you just stormed off."

"Why should _I_ be thanked for my service? I haven't done anything! I've been a failure ever since I joined!"

"That's not true, man-"

"Yes, it is! I mean, look at me right now! Do I look like a hero? No, I don't. I'm the absolute bottom of the barrel. You even said last night that I hate you and everyone else in the squad."

"You didn't exactly help yourself then, bud." Hudson shrugged. "I gotta ask one thing, Drake, why do you put such a low value on yourself? Why do you think that no one gives a damn?"

"Because I've never done anything that would make someone want to care. You enlisted on your own. I went to prison and then got on opportunity to have my sentence terminated if I joined the Marines. I took that opportunity, but I can't seem to pull myself out of my past, and I don't know why."

"You don't let anybody talk to you, man, that's the problem! Every time someone shows any level of concern for you, you act like they don't care! I get it; you can't see inside somebody's head, but just once, you have to let a person in. Trust me, man, not everyone's out to hurt you. _I'm_ not out to hurt you. I've kinda-sorta known you since you and Vasquez joined the unit. Plus, you did save my life, and I wanna do you a favor." Hudson held his hands up. "Name it, man. I'll do anything for you."

I just didn't feel ready. I wanted to calm down first, but I didn't think that would ever happen. "Let me think about it, OK?"

* * *

Being upset had sapped me of my appetite, and I wanted to be alone. I left Hudson in the diner and decided to sit in the car, feeling like I screwed up big-time. That's nothing new, and it definitely wasn't going to be the last time.

I glanced at the clock, seeing only forty-five minutes had passed since we left the hospital. Delhoun was probably still under the knife. As much as I wanted to talk to him about what was going on, I knew that he was not going to be feeling good when he woke up, and God only knows when he'll start to feel normal again. I could always talk to Aran. I know I've been neglecting him the past few days, and I feel like he's going to let me know of that.

When Hudson came outside, I didn't say anything as he got in the car. Frankly, I wanted to ignore him, but he was making that difficult. Looking at the clock again, I figured it was a good time to head back to the hospital. Hudson was quiet during the drive up until we were in the parking lot of the building again, and he said, "Are you sure you're OK?"

"Positive," I replied, getting out of the car. "Look, Delhoun's gonna feel like shit when he comes out, so don't be an ass."

"I'm not trying to be an ass, man. I'm just-"

I whirled around with my left fist clenched. Hudson has seen a great deal of shit, but he flinched like any other man. I saw his Adam's apple bob slightly, and the hair on his arms stood on end. Lowering my fist, I snarled, "You've pissed me off enough the last two days. Next time I turn around to hit you, I'm actually going to hit you. Got it?"

Hudson looked torn between being concerned and being mad at me. He followed me into the hospital without saying anything else, which I interpreted as him giving up. I hoped he gave up, because the two attempts he made to help didn't achieve their intended purpose. Besides, he's loud and obnoxious; there's no way that personality type will allow him to help me.

At least we didn't have to wait long for Delhoun. A nurse escorted him to the waiting room, where she gave us a bottle of eye drops I would have to administer to Delhoun once a day. The poor guy was wearing black goggles that he couldn't remove for three days, and he was a little disoriented. As much as I wished we could just go back to his facility, we still had errands to run.

This day could've gone better, but I don't think there was any way to reverse it at this point. After parking at the supermarket, I said, "I think you should stay in the car, Delhoun. I have your list."

Delhoun refused. "No. I'm going with you because I prefer specific brands and sizes." He groped around for the button to release his seatbelt.

 _Why couldn't you have written all that on the list?_ "Alright. Whatever you say." I got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to help Delhoun. "Are you feeling OK?"

"Oh, I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Look, we can do this another day."

"No, we can't. You two and Aran have to feed yourselves, and I'm out of cleaning supplies. Remember, you're the ones caring for the Annexers now."

Rolling my eyes, I walked Delhoun into the store. If I was on my own, this would be done a lot quicker, but, no, I had to get Delhoun's input on _everything_. I couldn't be too hard on him, because he just got out of surgery. That shouldn't be an excuse for me to be out in public for longer than I should be. Coupled with that was my argument with Hudson. The two incidents were like giant bags on my shoulders.

Of course, Hudson was no help. I could've forgiven him if he attempted to help, but he didn't. Instead, he was off in his own little world, and trying to sneak junk food into the cart. The longer this went on, the worse I felt. Despite sitting in the car for twenty minutes at the diner earlier, that wasn't enough alone-time for me to be satisfied; already, I wanted to be alone again. I've gone two-and-a-half days without much time to myself, which is the opposite of what I thought this week was going to be like. I was hoping I could push myself forward. Instead, I felt like I was dragging myself backward.

I couldn't bring myself to just ditch Hudson and Delhoun. That would be cruel. It took a little over an hour to check off every little thing on Delhoun's list, pay for it, and bring it all out to the car. The funny part was that it was only a little after nine in the morning, but it felt like we had been out for the whole day. I drove back, ignoring the conversation Delhoun and Hudson were having. Naturally, I had to carry in all the groceries (though, Hudson managed to help with that), and put them away, and listen to Delhoun say that when I was done, I had to let the Annexers out of the cages and herd them into the yard.

Frankly, this wasn't a good day. I didn't think it was going to be a good day, but I also didn't think it was going to be this bad. I don't want to recount it. I just don't want to think about it. I wish I could cut myself off from my emotions, because they're weighing me down.

Even though I was alone in the yard, I wasn't feeling any relief. At one point, I was joined by Aran, who sat next to me and studied my face before asking me what was wrong in his notebook.

"I can't get myself to focus on anything else," I said. "Every single thing I do or say is tainted by the fact that I'm . . . haunted by everything I've done wrong. I can't even accept anyone's help, because I'm convinced no one wants to help me because of what I've done wrong. Part of me knows that isn't true. I do have people who want to help me, and I trust them. Why can't I believe that someone like Hudson wants to help me?"

Aran thought for a moment, before writing, " _It's not wise to let your guard down, but I think this is one of those times where you have to, just a little. Why don't you think Hudson can help you?_ "

"The only things we have in common are we were both poisoned, and we serve in the same unit. That's it. No one in my unit has ever . . . made the attempt to get to know me. The only person in there that I trust is Vasquez." Tears started welling up. "And she's not here right now. I know that not everyone I actually care about is going to be there, but I can't . . . I can't just force myself to talk to people. I can't wear a mask for very long. It breaks, and then everyone can see that I'm a mess."

" _Self-loathing isn't very attractive. Most people don't want to be around someone who is constantly negative. Some would even think that you're trying to draw attention to yourself_."

I shrugged. "If that's the case, why bother trying to talk to people? I can't just tell people what's wrong. I can't cover up every negative emotion just because someone doesn't like negative emotions. It . . . hurts."

" _I know it sounds like a stupid idea, but I think you need to start off with small talk. It's relatively harmless, and sooner or later, you'll be able to open up about your problems."_

Sighing, I shook my head. "I think I'm better off alone. I really don't care if it's not healthy; it's not healthy talking to people I have no connection with, either."

Aran looked disappointed. He was about to write something else, but stopped. After thinking for a few minutes, he stood up, leaving me alone for the rest of the morning.

* * *

 _Question of the Chapter: Has Hudson actually put an effort into trying to help Drake? Or is he more of an irritation?_


	4. Chapter 4

Winnie could sense that I was upset about something, so she kept following me everywhere throughout the rest of this regrettable day. She even tried joining me in the bathroom, but I was firm in keeping her out. However, she was sitting right outside the door when I came out, happily waiting.

I was weak from not eating anything all day, but at the same time, I didn't want to eat. Again, I had this feeling of not deserving it, but it was more intense than it usually was. Maybe it was because I was lonely? I didn't want to be lonely, but at the same time, I just wanted to be alone.

Around six that night, we sat around the table, eating Chinese takeout. Conversation was scarce, and I, for one, was afraid to bring anything up. I didn't want to do small talk. I didn't have to do anything, though, because Hudson said, "How're you doing?" to Delhoun.

"I'm fine. Just tired," Delhoun replied. "Feels like someone took hot sticks and shoved them in my eyes. Fucking lasers. They're crude and do nothing but burn holes in everything they touch."

"I learned that the hard way," Hudson said with a smirk. "When I was in high school, they took my class on a field trip to this interactive museum. It was boring as hell if you're not into science-y stuff, but they had this big chamber with lots of little laser stations. Man, it looked like it was designed strictly for kids, and here we are in high school. Anyways, I go up to one and I told one of my buddies to stick his hand under it. 'It's kiddie stuff, it's not gonna hurt you,' I said. So he puts his hand under it, I press the button, and the laser burned right through his hand."

"And you've clearly learned nothing since then," I mumbled.

Actually, if there was one thing Hudson did learn, it was that I am an unforgivable asshole. He looked at me, and said, "That's a lot coming from someone who acts like the whole damn world's against him."

"What does that have to do with your laser story?"

"Quite a bit, honestly. Ya see, that's something in my _past_ that I certainly _regret_ , but do you see me dwelling on it and convincing myself I'm a horrible person because of it?"

"I'm not you, and you're not me, Hudson," I growled.

"That's not the point! You need to grow the fuck up, man."

Delhoun reached to his right, and touched Aran's armor. Whispering something to himself, he lowered his hand, and then reached to his left, finding Hudson's head.

"What're you doing, Doc? Hey, let go-"

 _Bang!_ Delhoun slammed Hudson's head into the table. "I'm not listening to anymore bullshit from either of you. Drake, you should've kept your mouth shut. Hudson, don't even think about prodding Drake about his past. Clearly, you two were fighting about this while I was having my optic nerves fried."

Hudson winced when he touched the bruise on his forehead. "We weren't fighting. Drake panicked and hid in the bathroom when some guy tried thanking him for his service. I tried to make him feel better."

"No, you didn't. You accused me of pushing away help every time someone offers it," I said.

"Because you do! I haven't ever seen you accept help from _anyone!_ "

"I accept help from Delhoun. That's it. He actually took the time to listen to me and get to know me, unlike Hicks and especially unlike you!"

"Oh, so you'll talk to some guy that you hardly knew at the time, but you won't talk to the people you served with for a couple years? What kinda piss-poor reasoning is that? You don't trust us?! Jesus, if that's the case, why don't you just quit the Marines?!"

"I'm not quitting the Marines! Maybe I'll just transfer to another unit! Maybe it won't be filled with idiots like you who try to rip into my past all the time!"

"'Rip into your . . .' When the fuck have I 'ripped' into your past?! You actually trusted me with the fact that you were suicidal! If you don't trust any of us, why'd you tell me that? Were you trying to drag me down to your level of sadness and pitiful self-worth? Was that because you had th-this delusion that everyone was treating me like I was something special when we got back from D.C.?" A thin droplet of silver sweat appeared on Hudson's forehead. "There's caring for yourself, and then there's being selfish. You, Drake, are completely selfish. Everything is all about you and your problems. If we don't pay attention to you, you just sink. We can't give you attention all the time, man!"

Delhoun took a breath. "Hudson, that's enough. You're giving me a headache. I don't want to hear another word from either of you."

* * *

Well, that definitely made the day ten times worse. I was glad it was going to be over soon when I finished up my shower and headed to Delhoun's room. As I entered, I was baffled to see the blinds were shut and the curtains were drawn. Almost every electronic was off, and Delhoun was lying in his bed. When he saw me, he held something out to me. "Drake, I need you to give me the drops."

As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I saw he was holding out a small bottle. Shrugging, I took the bottle, and nervously looked at Delhoun. He took the black goggles off, and cringed, appearing unable to open his eyes. "Drake, force my eyes open."

There was a part of me feeling like I was helping someone torture themselves, but I knew this had to be done. Carefully, I used my thumb and forefinger to open Delhoun's right eye. The pupil was heavily dilated, and tiny red blood vessels branched around the ruby iris. It was truly ugly, and reminded me of old horror movies, full of monsters with red eyes. While holding his eye open, I unscrewed the cap of the bottle by clenching it in my teeth and using my free hand to turn it. Honestly, I probably should've opened the damn bottle first, then opened Delhoun's eyes. The muscles surrounding the eye were trying to work against me. Holding my breath, I squeezed a single drop into Delhoun's eye. Knowing it made contact, I let go of him, and he grabbed his face, giving a cry of pain.

"Lemme do the other one, OK?" I pulled Delhoun's hand away from his left eye. Forcing it open, I squeezed a drop into it, and let go. "Alright, put the goggles back on."

Once Delhoun had the goggles back on, I closed the drop bottle and put it on his nightstand. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"For what?"

"Nothing. You can open the curtains now. I think the television remote on the desk. Do whatever you want."

I had a feeling what Delhoun really wanted was background noise, just to keep himself from losing his mind. After turning the TV on, I lowered the volume so we could talk. "How come the blinds were closed?"

"I'm not supposed to expose my eyes to light for the next three days," Delhoun replied. "Or water. I have to wear these stupid things in the shower."

"Hey, I kinda get how you feel. It's like me and the silver flowers and the whole thing about how I can't go into hypersleep."

Delhoun was quiet for a few minutes. He lay down in the bed, and asked, "How come you accept my help when we, too, have nothing in common?"

A small, nervous knot formed in my stomach as a struggled to think of an answer. "I guess it's because . . . you listened to me."

"Ah. What are the differences between me and Hudson?"

"You're smarter, and quieter, and . . . you just seem to have more . . . sympathy?"

Delhoun grinned. "I limit my sympathy to you and Aran, and my Annexers, of course." He was about to say something else when the phone on his desk began ringing. "Drake, can you get that?"

I got off the couch, pressing the "mute" button on the TV remote while picking up the phone. "Hello?"

A man's voice said, "Is this Doctor Delhoun's office?"

"Um . . . yes. W-What do you need?"

"Animal Control was called earlier today about a stray Annexer wandering around the residential areas of Brisbane. When we caught it, we found signs that it may've been abused. We're dropping it off at your facility, and I think we'll need your help finding whoever's hurt this animal."

"OK, well, I'll be waiting by the main door."

"We'll be by in ten minutes."

I hung up the phone, and looked at Delhoun. "That was Animal Control. They found an abused Annexer in a residential part of the city."

"Are they bringing it here?" Delhoun asked, throwing off the bedcovers.

"Yeah. They said they'll be by in ten minutes."

Grabbing a bathrobe from the floor, Delhoun anxiously tried to put it on. When I couldn't watch him struggle anymore, I helped him put the robe on, and led him to the main doors of the building.

"I can handle this," I said. "I'll-"

"No. I'll guide you."

In a short time, a gray and white truck with the words "Brisbane City Animal Control" painted on the sides pulled up to the building. Two men in gray jumpsuits opened the back of the vehicle, and took out a large carrier. They seemed a little confused at the sight of an albino man wearing a dirty blue robe and black goggles being led by a shirtless Marine, and one of them said, "Which one of you is Delhoun?"

"I am." Delhoun raised his hand. "Where's the Annexer?"

"He's in a carrier, sir. We've got a request for you, to help the investigation; we need photographs of the wounds for the trial."

"Of course," Delhoun replied. "Drake, get the carrier."

* * *

We carefully led the Annexer out of the carrier, and onto a metal examination table. He was extremely docile, and scared. There was blood all over his tail, and his front paws were trembling. When we managed to remove his helmet, Delhoun guided me through prying open the animal's mouth to examine his teeth, and I was greeted with what appeared to be a horrid attempt at shaving down each individual tooth.

"This . . . definitely doesn't look normal," I said, my stomach turning uneasily.

"What is it?"

"It's like someone tried to shave or cut the teeth. Some of them look rough and jagged."

"Does it look like every tooth was shaved?"

"Yeah."

"Well, at least we can confirm this is a case of abuse, then."

That wasn't the only thing we found. After removing the Annexer's clothing, I uncovered a bloody line around his neck, and patches of missing fur. "Jesus Christ," I muttered. "Who'd be sick enough to do this?"

"That's what we're trying to find out, I guess," Delhoun replied. He was getting a little anxious, upset he couldn't do much of anything at the moment.

We had to wake up Hudson in order to get pictures taken of the wounds. It wasn't hard for me to keep the Annexer's mouth open; he looked like he was uncomfortable when it came to closing his jaws. He squealed when I gently pressed forward on his left paw to show Hudson the badly cut claws. Once the pictures were taken, we set to work treating him.

While I searched the cabinets for bandages and rubbing alcohol, Hudson was giving the Annexer a much-needed bath-in the sink. He filled the sink with warm water and soap, and effortlessly placed the animal inside.

"Hey, buddy," he whispered, taking a sponge from the cabinet above him. "It's OK, I'm not gonna hurt ya."

The Annexer looked at him with wide blue eyes, then flinched as Hudson began scrubbing him.

"You'll feel better when you're all clean and fluffy." Hudson smiled, and frowned every time the Annexer whined. Within the next ten minutes, the sink was full of bloody, soapy water, and Hudson was wrapping the animal in a towel.

I was able to bandage most of the wounds, but after talking to Delhoun, that wasn't going to fix everything. In the morning, we would have to take the Annexer to a veterinarian to have his teeth and claws looked at. Until then, we just had to keep him safe and warm.

"That was honestly the strangest thing I've ever seen," I said when I went back to Delhoun's bedroom.

"Strange and sad, yes," Delhoun replied. "I'm guessing the shaving of the teeth and botched cutting of the claws means that whoever was caring for this Annexer was trying to pacify it."

"You don't think it was some kind of psychopath?"

"No. The way you described everything sounds like someone made a poor attempt at keeping the animal from hurting something or someone. They can be trained, but obviously, this person didn't figure that out. Either that, or they weren't successful at traditional training. You didn't find any identification tags, did you?"

"Unfortunately, no."

Delhoun sighed. "Well, that'll make things a little more difficult."

I lay down on the couch, glancing out the window before resting my head on the pillow. The only light was coming from the moon, and I had an aching sensation in my chest as I thought about Vasquez and the rest of my squad. I couldn't believe how much I missed them and how much I was worried about them.

"If I wasn't blind, I could probably tell if the Annexer used to be mine or not."

Frankly, I didn't doubt that, but the fact of the matter was that Delhoun couldn't see, so we were just going to have to work harder to figure out what happened to this animal.

* * *

After having a relatively dreamless night, I awoke feeling sore and stiff. _I'm never going to feel well-rested, am I?_ I rubbed my face, forcing myself to get up. The clock said it was six in the morning. Twelve hours ago, Delhoun was getting prepped for his surgery. I looked at his sleeping form, glad that he was resting after yesterday's ordeal.

It was actually comfortable outside, so I quietly made a cup of coffee and sat on a bench out in the yard, staring the skyline between the trees. _Now, if I could do this for the rest of the week, I'll be happy,_ I thought.

I didn't get to enjoy coffee yesterday, so I enjoyed it today. I hoped today was going to be the day my luck would finally turned around. Maybe that penny I tossed into the fountain at the mall would finally work. Then again, I still think that it won't. It's just tossing a coin into water. How will that bring me luck or happiness? Sighing, I wondered if it worked for others, but not for me. I have way too many wants and wishes, and most of them were impossible. _Maybe Hudson's right; I'm selfish. Wanting a place to call home is selfish. Wanting my past to stop haunting me is selfish. Wanting to be happy is selfish._ I watched the steam slowly rise from the cup, feeling myself retreat back into my mind.

Miranda had been afraid that she looked selfish to others, and I tried to convince her that wasn't the case. She gave a lot of her time and even her happiness in order to satisfy others, and it left her on the verge of being broken. That was one of the reasons she liked me so much; I didn't demand things from her, and I didn't tell her that her problems meant she was selfish. There was a part of me that wanted to talk to her about what was going on because she'd understand. At the same time, though, I was afraid of how I would feel after the conversation; despite Vasquez knowing that Miranda and I were just friends, I still felt like I was betraying not only my girlfriend, but my best friend.

 _You don't have access to Vasquez right now. It's OK for you to be friends with Miranda. You helped each other._ I sighed, hating the feeling of fighting with myself. _Come on, Miranda will understand this feeling a lot better than Vasquez would. Go call her. Talking to someone is better than holding it all in._

With that, I gave in to the words my conscience was uttering. When I finished my coffee, I was going to head into the city and place a long-distance call to Washington.

* * *

 _Question of the Chapter: If the entire squadron had survived the events of "Aliens," is it more or less likely Drake would request a discharge, and why?_

 _Author's Note: I'm sorry it took so long for the plot to finally kick into gear. Even "Grey Hearts" moved faster than this sloth of a book. I try not to base my work on the feedback it receives, but after coming to appreciate everything I've read, I wonder what happened to make this book flop. Is it boring? Too slow? Does it feel disorganized, or that it's going nowhere?_


	5. Chapter 5

Walking through Brisbane is different from driving through it. I didn't have to put up with traffic jams or searching for parking spaces. Most of the traffic had thinned at this point, considering people were at work. The only people out and about were the tourists, wandering around and taking pictures of everything they found intriguing. They're the people on vacation, capable of enjoying themselves, unburdened by everything.

Oh, how I wish that was me.

I guess it's a good thing the travel station is largely surrounded by buildings purely for tourists' purposes. You had several hotels on one side, and restaurants and diners on the other. I arrived at the tail-end of the breakfast rush hour, so the smell of food was still lingering. My stomach was grumbling, but I was thinking about yesterday morning. I'm pretty sure the odds were astronomically slim that someone would try to thank me for my service. Besides, expecting that probably made me more prepared, mentally. Not only that, I was alone. Hudson wasn't there to screw everything up.

After walking into the nearest café, I glanced down at my clothing. Frankly, nothing about what I was wearing said I was USCM. I left my dogtags at Delhoun's. I was wearing a plain gray T-shirt and cargo shorts. I wasn't even wearing my cap. _I'm good,_ I thought, letting a feeling of relief rush through me.

It wasn't a major bit of luck, but it was something. It wasn't going to take away all my problems, but it made me feel good, albeit for twenty minutes.

When I finished my breakfast, I immediately headed to the travel station. At least getting the number for the university went a little quicker this time, but once again I had to go through the annoying processor robot once I patched through to the university in D.C. I just hoped it was worth the time.

Eventually, I heard a familiar sigh. "I think it's safe to assume most long-distance calls are coming from you, Mark."

"Yeah, you can assume that," I said. "I'm calling to . . . ask you a few things, Miranda."

"About what?"

"Remember how you were worried that you looked selfish to other people?"

"Yeah."

"Well . . . yesterday, someone referred to me as selfish, and I . . . I want to know what you think. Am I selfish? Is . . . Is wanting to be happy and wanting pieces of your past to stop haunting you . . . is that selfish?"

"Honestly, Mark, I don't know. What do you want me to say?"

I frowned. "I want you to say what you think."

"I told you. I don't know."

"Why do you sound so tired? Is everything OK?"

"For one thing, it's almost nine at night where I am. Second, I have papers due before the end of the semester. Third . . . I'm not looking forward to spending the summer alone. I don't even get to take care of Mathias over the summer."

I felt like I had to be blunt. "I wish I could visit, but I can't. Sorry. Look, maybe it'll be good for you to be alone for awhile. You can't always rely on others to help you; it's not healthy."

"That's . . . pretty much the opposite of what some of my friends have said."

"Well, do you trust them or do you trust me?"

"Mark!"

"It's a serious question; who do you think has better interests in mind for you?"

"I don't want to say 'you.'"

"Why?"

"Because . . . I don't know. You're smart, but I don't know if you have my best interests at heart. I mean, if we were in a romantic relationship, I'd say 'yes,' but we're not, and . . . I don't know if it's right to trust one friend more than another."

"Your other friends aren't trying to control you, are they? It sounds like they are."

"I haven't even told you about them. Why would you assume that?"

"Because if they're telling you that you have to rely on others for help, it sounds like they're trying to make you dependent on them."

"Jesus, Mark, you've said some stupid things, but this tops all of them. You have no idea who any of them are, so you can't make that assumption. By the way, no, I'm not going to trust you; you don't sound like you have my best interests at heart. If I can't rely on others for help, maybe you shouldn't either. I don't want to hear back from you."

I heard a click, followed by a dial tone. As I put the phone back on its hook, I felt like my heart had turned to lead. _I don't know when to keep my mouth shut, do I?_ I left the building with my head down, wondering if whatever luck I could've had disappeared as soon as I failed to just let Miranda talk.

* * *

At least I was able to keep this between me and Miranda. I didn't say a word about what happened when I returned to Delhoun, who, along with Hudson, was getting ready to take the injured Annexer to the vet. There was a part of me that just didn't want to be in the same area as Hudson, but I figured the Annexer was enough to make us put our differences aside for a few hours.

Despite that, my mind was still wandering in various directions. It paused when we arrived at the animal hospital, and we were led to an exam room for exotic pets. The vet removed the bandages from last night, and gave me a nod of approval when he found the wounds were healing nicely. He gently probed the Annexer's body, and carefully placed the animal on its back. "Well, this is definitely one of the more interesting cases I've seen," he muttered. "I believe this is your Toby, Delhoun."

"What makes you say that?" Delhoun asked.

"All the Annexers that were adopted by the community center were taken here to be spayed and neutered. I gave them all different markings to keep track of 'em. This is definitely Toby. I clearly remember giving him a green ink mark under his left thigh."

"There's no way the community center would abuse my Annexers."

"I wouldn't jump to that conclusion." The vet glanced at Delhoun. "You want the good news or the bad news first?"

"Good news."

"Alright. The good news is that Toby is going to make a decent recovery. The bad news is that we need to pull some teeth and remove his front claws. A few of his teeth are chipped to the point where they won't grow back properly, and some of his claws aren't going to grow back at all." The vet showed us Toby's left paw. "The nailbed on these first two fingers has been cut. The thumb claw looks like it was cut right down to the bed, and he started chewing on it. He'll be asleep for both procedures. When he's recovered, you'll need to give him calcium supplements, soft food, cooked meat to start exercising the jaw muscles. He'll be wearing a cone for two weeks to keep him from chewing his paws."

"Is this all going to be done today?" I asked.

"No. We'll pull the teeth today, let him rest, and then we'll remove the claws tomorrow. I'd say . . . Friday afternoon, you can come get him."

I sighed. "Well, thanks for everything, Doc. We'll see you in a few days."

* * *

Delhoun was in disbelief over the idea that the Brisbane community center could have been hurting his Annexers. He mumbled to himself about that while we were driving back to his facility, and fell silent when we left the car to continue going about our day. I could understand Delhoun's disbelief; he trusted this place with his Annexers, creatures he rescued and raised. Surely, the community center had promised to care for them as they did the people that frequented there.

I decided to get to the bottom of this. After grabbing some money from my duffel bag, I headed back into the city and waited at a bus stop. Part of me was nervous, but I reminded myself that this Doctor Garrett wasn't Hornby; he had no idea who I was, and I hoped he never found out. _This should be a piece of cake,_ I thought, _All I can do is ask to see the Annexers. They'll let me in._

The bus headed into the southwest parts of Brisbane, stopping and picking up people along the way. There were still plenty of tall buildings, but it lacked the inviting, tropical shine of the beachside skyscrapers. Don't get me wrong, there were still palm trees, but everything seemed gray. Something was telling me I didn't want to be here at night.

Luckily, it was only eleven o'clock in the morning. The bus stopped near what I assumed to be the community center, and I walked off, starting to feel a little uneasy. Every major city has that one part you just don't go to. I remember I lived uncomfortably close to that part of Pittsburgh, and feeling wasn't all that different. The community center was supposed to be a "beacon of hope," if you will, but some end up as little more than the cheapest clothing store and daycare in the entire city.

The one in Brisbane definitely looked better off. It was at least clean, and the racks of hand-me-down clothing were organized. I didn't see a lot of people until I noticed the flyer for "read-a-book-to-a-kid" day was today, so I guess everyone was in another room.

The lady at the front desk didn't pay much attention to me, but she did ask if I was there for that particular event. I was honest, and said, "No, sorry, I'm here to see the Annexers you're caring for."

Well, I wasn't surprised when the lady shook her head. "Our animals are off-limits to people who aren't registered with that program."

"OK," I replied. "Sorry for wasting your time, then. Uh, do you mind if I use a bathroom?"

"Go down the first hallway, and take a left. The men's room will be the fourth door to your right."

"Thanks." I briskly headed in that direction, paying attention to signs along the way. Something in my gut was telling me I looked suspicious to the woman at the desk, so I wasn't planning on venturing off through the halls. There were cameras everywhere.

At least there were no cameras in the bathroom. After taking a quick piss, I analyzed the room while washing my hands. There was a sign at the end of the hall, to the right, directing you to the library and the special needs room. Surely, this vent on the back wall of the restroom could lead there as well.

When Aran was smuggling the two of us onto mainland Australia via a cruise ship, he made us hide in the vents. The vents there were big enough for an eight-foot-tall humanoid to crawl in, and all I hoped was that the vents here could fit a five-eleven Marine who had a bacon sandwich for breakfast. I also hoped that the cover would come off easily. Lo and behold, it came off smoothly, but it was dirty as hell. I wiped the dust on my pants after setting the cover on the floor next to the vent itself, and sucked in my stomach as I slowly crawled in.

It wasn't easy to breathe in the vent, and I should've considered that before shoving myself in there. Although the shaft widened a little as I crawled further in, the gray walls were covered in dust. The worst part was that I couldn't turn around. Sweat was running down my face in waves, and I found I was lying on my belly in my worst nightmare. I thought I was going to be sick. I pressed forward, and began feeling that all-too-familiar sensation of my lungs tightening. Faintly, I heard someone saying that my heart stopped. I jolted as I remembered the defibrillator paddles being slapped on my chest. I saw Hudson staring at me with bulging gray eyes and foaming at the mouth as he clawed at me when I found him in that abandoned building.

Teardrops made holes in the dust beneath me. _I have to keep going._ I sobbed as I went. It was insanely unbearable. At one point, I couldn't go on. I was frozen in place, locked by my own memories. I remembered collapsing in front of a water cooler when a fever kicked in from toxic discharge. I remembered Hornby giving me that shot that was supposed to help. I remembered crying in front of Aran. I remembered dragging Hudson out of that building. I remembered Delhoun panicking as he tried reviving him. I remembered that long flight to D.C., being tired, trudging up to the hotel room. I remembered seeing Hudson in a pitiful state when I found what hospital he was sent to. I remembered being arrested to keep me from interfering with Hornby's work. I remembered every hour of being starved and dehydrated in the warehouse.

I remembered finally being reunited with Vasquez, and the long hug we shared when we had a moment alone. I remembered she was crying, too. I remembered whispering to her that I was OK, that I was here, and that I would never let go. I remembered every tender moment we had over the week before we had to be separated again.

I want to see her again, so I have to keep going.

After climbing up a few feet, the vent shaft opened up to a large chamber, holding a fan. There was no room to stand, but I could get on my knees instead of remaining flat on my belly. The front of my shirt and pants were covered in dust, and sweat made my clothes stick to my body. Breathing was still difficult, and I frequently stopped, struggling to catch my breath. I felt like I had run a marathon.

I crawled past the fan, and came across a vent cover facing down. Peering through the bars, I saw two men standing in a room, talking to each other.

". . . I made sure every cage is secure," one of them said. "It's unlikely another will escape."

"If Delhoun comes across Toby, we'll get in trouble not only with him, but the law, too," the second one muttered.

"Well, you have a defense. A damn good one, too."

"No, I don't. There's no way the people will say protecting the incompetent is an excuse for harming animals. It won't work."

"Garrett, my theory is this: they will be split, they won't come to a decision, so they'll throw out the case and let you go."

"That would never happen. The public wouldn't stand for it. The animal-lovers would demand my head on a platter, and then the disabled activists will get pissy with the animal crowd. Do we really want to wake up and hear that members of those groups are attacking each other?"

"You're overreacting, Garrett. Besides, you know and I know Delhoun isn't a hardcore animal lover. Does he care? Yes, but he doesn't believe in putting an animal's life over a human's."

"But he still cares for his Annexers as though they're his children."

I realized I was holding my breath as I was listening to the conversation, and when I tried to breathe again, I found I couldn't. My back hurt, and I involuntarily collapsed back down on my stomach.

Down below, Garrett and his companion heard the sound of something landing hard up in the vents. Garrett jumped, and said, "What was that?" He looked up. "Jesus Christ, it's not . . . don't tell me it's . . ."

"What're you worried about? They're probably cleaning the vent system."

"That didn't sound like cleaning!" Garrett grabbed his companion's shoulder. "Did Weyland-Yutani get their hands on _it?_ "

"Garrett, if there was a Xenomorph, we would've received an evacuation notice. Besides, they have never been successful in getting a specimen. There's no way there's an alien in the vent."

I began backing up, trying to get out as fast as I could, but all I was going was making more noise.

"I'm telling you, there's something in the _Goddamn vent!_ " Garrett yelled. "Get security! I want the walls opened!"

I managed to get back to the bathroom wall, but I saw the boots of three people standing outside.

"Cover's off. Doesn't look like the work of animal," a man said.

"John, give me your flashlight," a woman replied.

I backed up again, but there was nowhere for me to hide. A beam of light blinded me temporarily, and I saw the woman staring at me.

"You're not going to believe this, but there's a man in the vents," she said.

"What?" John laughed.

"Seriously. Look."

The other two knelt down to look, and their jaws dropped. "I'll be damned."

It didn't take them very long to get me out. Frankly, I didn't think it was worth it to resist them, so I just slowly crawled forward and got out of the vent with no issue. The guards hauled me up and demanded to know who I was and why I was in the building's vent systems. I told them my name and rank, and that what I was doing was classified. They didn't believe me at first, but I then said that if the USCM says it's classified, then it's classified. Then, they demanded to know about my commanding officer, and I said, "Corporal Hicks."

Why Hicks? I don't know. I feel like he'd take this better than Apone would.

* * *

Either way, I got kicked out of the building. That was OK, because I had the information I needed. The problem was that I didn't have proof, nor would anyone believe me considering what I did was illegal. On the other hand, Delhoun probably wielded the power to get me back in there, but I also lied to the guards about being a classified mission under "commanding officer" Corporal Dwayne Hicks. I could get court-marshaled for this. Then again, I was sneaking around a community center, not a Weyland-Yutani building. I'm pretty sure stranger stuff has happened at a community center. Hopefully, they'd let it go and pretend it didn't happen, but, considering how jumpy Doctor Garrett seemed, he was probably demanding to talk to "commanding officer" Hicks as soon as I left the building.

What a wonderful day.

* * *

 _Question of the Chapter: Should Drake have snuck around the building by himself, or should he have waited for a better time and spy on it with Hudson or Aran?_

 _Author's Note: I feel like I should write a bonus piece where Hicks gets that radio transmission from Earth about Drake. I imagine the confusion and the "Holy shit, Drake, what did you do?" reaction would be amusing, along with Apone saying, "Really? This is Drake getting in trouble and not Hudson?"_


	6. Chapter 6

When I got back to Delhoun's facility, I explained everything that happened. He was visibly shocked that I went this far, but, in the end, he was glad I did. After I finished my story, he said, "So . . . they tortured not just Toby . . . but the others that I _trusted_ them with?" He swallowed hard, lines forming on his face as his frown deepened. He clenched his fists, and let go of his breath. "I've been lied to before, but . . . not like this." Delhoun drew in a quick breath, and looked down at the floor. "Is that what my work is? A joke? Something that's easily expendable? Have I chosen a path in life with virtually no reward?"

I grabbed a chair and sat across from him. "Your work's not a joke, and it's not expendable. Hey, it's not your fault this happened."

Delhoun was silent. He shook his head. "Obviously, I didn't give them the impression that I care about what I do, so they declared my Annexers to be nothing more than toys."

"This isn't your fault."

"Drake, go away."

I was taken aback, but I slowly stood up and headed for the door. I looked over my shoulder at Delhoun.

"I can hear you breathing. Please, leave."

I walked out of the room, and went into the kitchen, finding Hudson opening a bag of chips. "Don't bother Delhoun," I said.

"What's the matter?" Hudson asked.

"Well, I went to the Brisbane community center and found out they're hurting his Annexers. He's . . . worried that his work has no meaning and that he didn't convey that he cares to the people that adopted his animals."

"That's gotta hurt, man. Wait, how'd you figure out that they're hurting the Annexers?"

"Crawled through the vents."

"That had to be hell."

"It was, trust me. I hope I don't have to do that again." I opened the refrigerator, taking out a can of beer.

"Was it hard to breathe?"

I gave Hudson the "one-minute" gesture as I took a few swallows from the can. Setting the half-empty can on the counter, I faced Hudson again. "Of course it was hard to breathe. Even if I didn't go through the shit with the flowers, it wasn't easy to breathe. What I didn't want were the flashbacks."

Hudson nodded, not saying a word. There was an abrupt color change in his face, and he reached behind him to grab the back of a chair. Slowly, he sat down, and I noticed he was shivering.

"You OK?"

He shook his head. "I got . . . really dizzy."

"Have you been taking your medicine?" I pulled out a chair and sat next to him.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I forgot about it."

I took a deep breath, telling myself that getting angry with him wasn't going to solve anything. "When you say 'forgot about it,' do you mean that you just haven't been taking it, or you left it at the base?"

"I left it at the base."

I took another breath. Part of me was afraid that the MPs had locked down the base because no one was there. Surely, they'd let us in to get Hudson's medicine. "Stay here," I said, standing up and patting Hudson's shoulder. Despite what happened earlier, I went into Delhoun's room. He was lying in bed with Winnie curled up next to him, and she chirped when I came in. "Hey, do you think there's a way we can get back on base? Hudson forgot his medicine."

"Call Hornby," Delhoun replied.

"What?"

"I said, call Hornby! Don't argue with me, you stupid fucker!"

That single line sums up the reason why I needed to leave Delhoun alone for the rest of the day.

* * *

You can imagine I didn't want to talk to Hornby, but it's not like I have much of a choice. Sitting down in Delhoun's office, I opened his contact book and flipped through until I found Hornby's number. _Just be gentle and don't sound angry. It's that simple,_ I thought after dialing the number and waiting for someone to pick up.

"Hello?" Hornby said.

"Hey, it's Drake," I replied. "I'm in a bit of a situation here. Hudson and I are staying with Delhoun until the rest of the team comes back from a mission, and Hudson forgot his medicine at the base."

"How long has he gone without it?"

"About three days. He became dizzy a few minutes ago, and I don't think we can get back on base until everyone else comes back."

"Well . . . I can drop off another bottle, if that helps. It might take a few days."

"I don't know if we have a few days. I need to know what we can do for Hudson."

Hornby was silent for a moment. "Is there anything else going on besides dizziness?"

"Hold on." I set the phone down and went into the kitchen. Carefully, I helped Hudson stand, and took him into Delhoun's office, where I made him sit in another chair. "He's not a healthy color, that's for sure," I said when I picked up the phone.

"Ask him if he's in any pain."

I glanced at Hudson. "Do you hurt anywhere?"

He pointed to his head.

"He's got a headache."

"Is he feverish?" Hornby asked.

I pressed my hand to Hudson's forehead. "A little."

"Alright, Drake, here's what I want you to do. It's not going to feel good, but it should at least allow his body to continue forcing the toxin out, for a short time."

"You realize I don't trust you, right?"

"Can you trust me this one time?"

I sighed. "Let me hear your idea first."

"Are there any products in the fridge or pantry that contain horseradish?"

I bit my lip, and went back into the kitchen. After searching every cabinet and every shelf in the fridge, I went into Delhoun's office, picking the phone back up. "No, we don't have any horseradish."

"Go get some. I don't care what form it's in-dip, cheese, whatever-just anything that isn't labeled 'mild.'"

"Can I ask what this is supposed to do?"

"Make his nose run."

I feel like Hornby could've provided a more professional-sounding answer, but we were going to have to deal with it. Having seen Hudson sweat and cry silver over the last two weeks, I figured he probably sneezes it, too. I'm well-aware that horseradish is a pretty powerful condiment, and one of the best things to eat when you have a cold or sinus infection. Frankly, I think this would have better effects than the pill does. At least horseradish doesn't have Annexer hormones and won't make Hudson aggressive. "OK, well, we'll let you know how this goes," I said. "Um . . . thanks."

"My pleasure, Drake."

* * *

I made Hudson sit in the car while I went into the supermarket to get the horseradish. There were a lot of options to choose from, and I settled on a small container of chip dip. Of course, I wasn't going to make poor Hudson take a spoon and eat the damn thing right out of the container (which would've been funny, but also kinda gross), so I got a bag of potato chips as well. And a box of tissues.

When I returned to the car, I said, "I got something that'll make you feel better. I know you probably don't have an appetite right now, but trust me, this'll help."

Slowly, Hudson sat up. He grabbed onto the handle of the glove compartment to pull himself forward, and didn't say anything when I held out the chip bag and the horseradish dip.

"Come on, I don't have all day," I muttered. "Actually, you know what? I do have all day. Just take your time, Hudson, I don't fucking care. Delhoun's being a bitch, I lied to the security guards at the center about who my commanding officer is because they caught me in the fucking vents. Now, Hicks is probably getting a radio call on the Goddamn Moon because I said _he's_ my commanding officer! I'm gonna get in so much trouble when they all come home."

"Gimme a tissue, man!" Hudson's eyes were wide and his cheeks were turning red. Silver fluid was trickling from his nose, and he didn't look so dizzy anymore.

I opened the tissue box, and held it out to him. "Feel better?"

"Oh my God, yeah." He grabbed a tissue. "Wow, that shit's strong."

"It's buffalo wing-flavored horseradish dip," I said. "I thought the ghost pepper one would be too much for you."

"Probably wouldn't be the worst thing I'd ever eat." Hudson stuffed the dirty tissues in the door compartment. "I ate a bat heart once."

I looked at him, frowning. "You did what?"

"Yeah, man. When I was growing up in Minnesota."

"You never told me you were from Minnesota."

"You never asked."

"OK, OK, tell me the story behind why you ate a fucking bat heart."

"When I was fourteen, me and a group of friends were trying to come up with something to do when we all turned sixteen. You know, something that said we were all gonna be grown up soon. So, Wicker-we called him that because his hair looked like straw, and his mom sold wicker baskets in the fall-says, 'There's a cave up north of here. Let's catch a bat, and eat its heart.' We all looked at him like he was nuts, and he said, 'Are you chicken?' No one wanted to be chicken, so we agreed to it."

"Was he the first to do it?"

"No. He was the youngest of the group. Anyway, my sixteenth birthday comes along. I take a hunting rifle and meet everyone up at this cave. It's all dark and spooky and everyone's excited and scared at the same time. I said, 'Can we build a campfire?' Someone asks why, and I said, 'I'm gonna roast the bat's heart.' So, after I get a bat, we cut it open, take the little heart out, and I put it on a stick over the fire. The whole time I'm thinking to myself, 'Shit, what've I gotten myself into?' It's too late, now. The heart's roasted and I gotta eat it. Everyone's looking at me, and all I could do was hope I didn't throw it back up."

My stomach turned uncomfortably. "And you ate it?"

"Sure did, man. It was really juicy-"

"Alright, alright, I don't want the details."

"Hey, it's better than underage drinking."

"I know. Trust me, I know." I gagged. "Let's . . . talk about something else."

"OK. Why're we sitting in the parking lot of the grocery store?"

* * *

As disgusting as Hudson's story was, I felt like it was the first step in us getting to know each other as regular people. He knows I'm from Pennsylvania. I now know he's from Minnesota. He knows I went to jail. I know he ate a bat's heart. Without bringing up what happened on the morning of Delhoun's surgery, we actually talked to each other while driving around Brisbane. Hudson told me that the town he grew up in was "smack-dab in the middle of nowhere," but he moved to Minneapolis after graduating high school.

"So, you had a tight-knit group of friends, but you dropped everything and moved to the city?" I said.

"It wasn't tight-knit after we turned eighteen," Hudson replied. "Shit started falling apart our senior year. Everything turned into 'what the fuck am I gonna do when I graduate?' Kurt started taking early-access classes at a local college, didn't spend a lot of time with us anymore. A couple weeks pass without hearing from him, and then I wake up one day to hear that the previous night, he drove to a cliff overlooking town, and jumped."

"Jesus, why?"

"No one really knows. Ricky started going to the same college just to get answers. He asked around in between classes, and all he got was, 'Who? Oh, Kurt? He kept to himself. Didn't want to be involved with anything.' We all wanted to know what happened, but it was like no one had bothered with Kurt at all when he was there. Then Ricky got kicked out. The remaining four of us-me, Ricky, Wicker, and Ivan-met up at Ivan's place afterward. Ricky said he got kicked out of the early-access program because he beat up this girl that said Kurt was a heartless loser. Again, we still have no answers as to why Kurt jumped off a cliff. Things weren't the same, and . . . when we realized that, we started drifting away and focusing on our own plans. I wanted to just let things go." Hudson looked out the window, sighing. "That's why I moved. Starting over felt like the best thing to do."

Silence fell over the car like a heavy blanket. When I braked at a stoplight, I glanced at Hudson. "I'm really sorry about all that."

"Don't be, man. You weren't there. I'm happy where I am now. It's all behind me. I mean, I don't forget the good times, but . . . something was telling me to move on."

I nodded. "Hey, at least you can move on. I'd probably blame myself for what happened."

"True." Hudson looked at me. "You're not so bad, Drake."

"Thanks." That should've made me feel better, but there was too much on my mind for that to happen. "I'm sorry about what happened at the diner a few days ago. I'm really trying to not . . . be so unhappy. Sometimes, I feel like it's just part of who I am to be so unhappy all the time. I'm constantly burdened by things I regret, and they're not going to go away. Joining the Marines was supposed to be a redemption, yet I don't feel like I've made up for what I did wrong. Even though I try to do as much as I can to improve my image and show others that I am worth their time, I still feel like I'm dragging tons and tons of weight behind me." I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes, not wanting my vision obstructed while driving. "Worse yet, I feel like I can't drop it."

Hudson was listening, but the look on his face told me that he wasn't sure about something. "I wish I had something to say that would help, but . . . I dunno, man. I can't just say 'let go,' because obviously, you can't. I'm sorry, man."

"Don't be sorry," I said. "I'm coming real close to accepting this is how I'm going to be for a very long time."

* * *

I was glad I had that talk with Hudson. Frankly, I think we had a better understanding of each other-

Actually, scratch that. _I_ understood _him_. I may've told him that I have a hard time letting go, but I still wasn't ready to open up about specific things that have happened. I'm not ready to tell him what I did to go to jail. I'm certainly not telling him about Vasquez. I'm not telling him about how having a chance to get my diploma beat me up with my own memories.

When we got back to the facility, we were in agreed that Delhoun was not to be bothered for the rest of the day. Despite that, I wanted to talk to him and help him. It was strange how he suddenly collapsed, emotionally, when he learned Doctor Garrett was hurting the Annexers that he'd been entrusted with. Part of me thinks it's a combination of disbelief, and the helplessness he's feeling from the surgery. Either way, I decided to simply respect his wishes and leave him alone.

I spent the rest of the day tending to the Annexers. Not much to elaborate on, other than lugging around giant bags of food and litter is a real workout, so Apone can't claim I've been lazy. Once that was done, I asked Aran and Hudson what the dinner plan was. "You've been cooking every damn day," I said to Aran, "so you deserve a break. You wanna order something or go somewhere?"

Aran shrugged, and then wrote " _You pick,_ " in his notebook.

"I'm down for pizza, man," Hudson announced.

"OK. Gimme a minute to see what Delhoun wants." I slunk back into the hallway, and quietly opened the door to Delhoun's room. "Hey, we're getting pizza. Are you joining us?"

"No," Delhoun replied.

"Have you eaten at all today?"

"That's none of your business, Drake. Go away."

I sighed, closing the door as I left. As I entered the kitchen, I grabbed the car keys from the hook outside Delhoun's office. "We're going out for pizza, and then I'll treat you two to ice cream."

"Delhoun's not coming?" Hudson asked while putting his jacket on.

"Nope. That's his problem, not ours."

* * *

Privates Jenzi and Lucano filled their roles well as the replacement rifleman and smartgunner, respectively, but the lack of comradery between them and the rest of the squad still made the group feel like there were two massive holes in it.

Hicks would only admit to himself that he was glad this was a non-combat operation.

Although the trapped Weyland-Yutani employees had been freed, there was still work to be done. The destroyed computer server had to be replaced completely, putting strain on the others. That meant hall duty for everyone to make sure nothing overheated while they waited for another server to be delivered from Earth. The server room was about the size of an American football field. It was dimly lit by the little green and red lights on every piece of equipment. The only sounds were a gentle hum and low beeps from the individual servers. Something about it was creepy, particularly when you were alone in the dark room.

As he paced the server room, Hicks glanced up to see someone waving to him from the hallway. At this distance, it was hard to tell who it was, but they were clearly telling him that he was needed somewhere else. Instead of slowly slinking around each corner, scanning over the servers, Hicks would have to move a little more quickly to leave the room. This quick movement made him feel like he was a mouse in a lab maze, only the reward at the end was a door instead of a food pellet.

He climbed up the stairs to see the silhouette was Dietrich, who pulled open the door before Hicks could touch the handle. "There's a radio transmission from Earth," she said. "It's . . . from a city center in Australia. They want to talk to you."

Something didn't feel right at all. In a way, what Dietrich said felt like a Mad Libs passage that she had been told to read off. "This isn't a joke, is it?" Hicks asked.

"No. Trust me, I don't think any of that sounded right either."

Taking a deep breath, Hicks marched down the hallway to the communications room, where the rest of the Marines were camping. A few of them were asleep, but most, like Vasquez, were struggling to get used to the lack of a true day-night cycle. The shock and confusion had rendered them unable to sleep when they were ordered to, and exhaustion when they were needed. That tiredness had led to Vasquez hurting her shoulder when moving debris out of the hall as they were freeing the employees. It wasn't anything major, just a sprain, but she couldn't do anything, including picking up her smartgun.

Hicks imagined that Drake would be devastated. He sat in front of a dashboard, and pressed a key to connect with the message from Earth. The screen flickered for a moment, and then two men and a woman appeared. One of the men, dressed in a lab coat, looked anxious, and angrily pointed at Hicks. "I want answers!" he hissed.

"Doctor Garrett, we can deal with this like normal people," the other man said, before looking at Hicks. "Sorry. We're calling to ask about one of your men. A . . . Private Drake, I believe."

 _Oh, Jesus Christ, what happened?_ "Are we thinking about the same Drake?"

"Tall, blond hair, blue eyes, looks kinda grumpy?" the woman asked.

"Yep, that's him."

"OK, well, earlier today, we were alerted to something crawling around the vents of the Brisbane community center. Doctor Garrett here was convinced it was some kind of animal, but John and I looked in one of the vents and found a man in there. He was brought out with no incident, but when we asked what he was doing in the vent, he claimed it was classified by the USCM. At least he gave us the name of his commanding officer, which would be you."

"Hold on, hold on," Hicks held up his hand. "Um, I'm not Drake's commanding officer. I don't know why he told you _I_ was his commanding officer. I don't know why he told you whatever he was doing was classified. He's not even part of the unit now; he's on medical leave."

Everyone onscreen looked at each other, confused.

"Yeah. Drake's under the care of Doctor Delhoun. Either Drake got bored and decided to fuck around with something, or he was doing stuff for Delhoun. That's the only answer I have for you. Don't worry about anything; his real commanding officer, Sergeant Apone, and I will have a talk with him when we get back, alright?" Hicks sighed as he turned the screen off, and looked at Apone. "You heard the whole thing, right?"

Apone was silent for a minute or two, and then glanced at Hicks. "Drake is gonna get more than a talking-to when we get back. They didn't say anything about Hudson?"

"Nope."

"Huh. That definitely sounds like something Hudson would do, but I can't see him coming up with crawling in the damn vent on his own."

"Or he would and then quickly realize that's a bad idea." Hicks grinned a little. "Nuts as he is, we need him. And Drake."

"Drake needs to get his shit together. Stop scattering it on the floor and put it in a bag or something."

"I don't think that's the issue. I think the bag has a hole in it."

* * *

 _Question of the Chapter: From Hudson's perspective, does it appear Drake was actually listening? Or does he feel deep down that Drake has a lot more on his mind?_

 _Author's Note: Since interest was expressed in the message scene, I wrote out the scene above, in third-person from Hicks's point-of-view. There's a lot in this particular chapter that probably could've been spread out over two or even three chapters. If this wasn't written from Drake's perspective, the scene where Hudson talks about his past would've been significantly longer.  
_

 _Similar to how the choice of Pittsburgh as Drake's birthplace was a bit randomized, Hudson's birthplace being Minnesota is also a somewhat out-of-the-blue choice. I'd think that his backstory would be more canonically solid, but it's almost as ambiguous as Drake's, so I decided to play around with some ideas in order to get the two characters to actually talk to each other rather than fight. I also hope that this wasn't too goofy and the moods flowed smoothly from one to the next._


	7. Chapter 7

It's supposed to be cold in an ice cream parlor. I get it. But when it's so cold that your nose starts running, it's a little ridiculous. It's a good thing I grabbed extra napkins, because Hudson was running silver fluid all over the place. I know that it is not normal for someone's nose to be running this much when it's cold, but I think it's simply because Hudson's ill and his body is trying to get the toxin out as soon as possible so it can function normally again. I felt bad that he had to pause in between spoonfuls of his absurdly large sundae to sop up the silver mess that would appear.

I know, it's something beyond his control, but it was a little annoying to hear him blow his nose every other minute or so. Even Aran felt like the situation was beginning to revolve around keeping Hudson from dripping metallic snot into his ice cream. He passed me his notebook, which read, " _Can't we have a conversation or something?_ "

"Sure, Aran, whaddaya wanna talk about?" I said, somewhat sarcastically.

" _Don't you think we should try to rescue the remaining Annexers?_ "

"I'm probably in enough trouble," I replied. "I don't need an even bigger target on my back."

" _But, we have proof they're being abused. You won't get in trouble_."

"Not happening, Aran. Sorry."

The Engineer was deep in thought as he stared at his ice cream, and then he wrote down, " _We could get the Annexers to escape. People will find them, notice they're hurt, and we'll have an easy case on our hands_."

"What're you getting at, buddy?"

" _We can break into the center at night. It can't be that hard._ "

* * *

I know I have a bad habit of doubting myself, so I decided to attempt at ignoring that feeling while following along with Aran's plan.

Remember how I said that the part of Brisbane where the community center is was an area I didn't want to go to at night? Well, we were going there at night. Wonderful. Part of me figured that we have Aran, and Hudson and I are trained Marines, so, we should be OK.

After getting off the bus, I led the two of them to the same building I was at earlier that day. I was impressed to see there weren't any security guards, despite the fact that I was caught crawling around the vents. No one approached us as we paused by the doors.

"Can you break the lock, Aran?" I asked.

Aran shook his head, gesturing to an alarm system in the doorway inside the building.

"OK. Let's go find a window or something." I walked around to the eastern side of the building, and found two options for windows; a small one leading to the basement, or a bigger one leading to God-knows-where. There was no way Aran was going to fit into the smaller window, so he pushed open the bigger one, and helped me and Hudson up through it. Unfortunately, Aran's brute strength broke the seal that held the window in place when it was open. As he pushed me through, the window fell, landing hard on my lower back. I bit back a scream, but I couldn't bear the pain searing up and down my torso and legs.

"Drake, you OK?" Hudson whispered.

I grunted, and then hissed, "Fuck!" Crawling through the window, I rolled into an office, and continued cursing as pain throbbed from its epicenter in my lumbar region. In a short minute, Hudson joined me.

"Are you sure you're OK?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I growled. When Aran's giant frame appeared in the window, I said, "I'm gonna kill you if this doesn't go right."

He looked down at me, and didn't even bother writing a response after helping me stand.

Rubbing my back, I glanced at the door leading out into the hall. "There's probably a key around here somewhere."

Hudson opened the drawers in the desk, and pulled out a whole ring of keys. "Which one do you think opens the door, man?"

"Try 'em all out and see."

Hudson rolled his eyes, but as he approached the door, we all paused. "Do you hear something?"

At first, all I heard was silence, and then I heard a soft motor running. I mouthed, "What is that?"

Aran held up his notebook with a single word. " _Wheelchair_."

I glanced at Hudson. A drop of silver sweat on his left temple glinted in the moonlight spilling from the window, and he whispered, "What do we do, man?"

"Wait for it to pass," I replied.

"Is that possible?"

"Of course it's possible."

Hudson wasn't too sure. In fact, he was becoming anxious. We could still hear the quiet, steady droning of the motor outside, and it seemed to be getting closer to the door. As it got closer, Hudson's breathing gradually became faster.

"Hey, it's OK," I whispered. "Relax."

Hudson shook his head. "We may as well turn tail now, man!"

"Shh!"

We heard an absentminded humming, slowly coming closer to the door. Then, the whirring stopped. The only sound I could hear was my own heartbeat. We glanced at each other nervously. Hudson was trying to keep his breathing under control. Our gazes returned to the door when we heard the slow drawl of someone whose brain wasn't functioning properly. "Doctah . . . Verne?"

I looked at Hudson. Silver sweat was running down the sides of his face. I couldn't explain why he was so nervous; I didn't expect this to happen either, but there was no need to be so anxious. _Let it go,_ I thought, _Hudson's not feeling well._

The whirring started up again, and the man in the wheelchair began heading away from the door. My guess was that we were in the office of this Doctor Verne he was looking for, and I wondered if the poor guy was going to search the whole building for him.

"Gimme the keys," I said.

Hudson released his breath before handing me the keys. It didn't take long for me to find the right key, and I slowly turned it. The _click_ was way louder than it should've been, and I could almost hear my heart, Hudson's heart, and Aran's heart skip a beat as the sound faded away into our brains. I opened the door, and looked to my left to see a motorized wheelchair going down the hall. The man in it was still calling for Doctor Verne, and I gestured for Hudson and Aran to go to my right.

I led them to the men's restroom, and then pointed to the hall running perpendicular to it. "The kennel has to be that way," I whispered. "That's where the vents led."

Hudson followed close behind me. When I glanced over my shoulder, I noticed spots of silver formed an uneven line in the carpet covering the hallway floor. Surely, that would make it easy for the people running this place to find who broke in, but at the same time, at least Hudson was releasing the toxin.

We came to a metal door with a sign reading "Authorized Personnel Only" below the window. All it took was one look inside to see that was the kennel. The room was dark, but I could see movement in the large cages that lined the inside. I took a deep breath. "How the fuck do we get in?"

Aran put his notebook on the wall to write. " _This lock doesn't use a traditional key. It requires a code and a computerized key_."

"Is there anyway to bypass it?"

" _Some metals will trigger the locking mechanism to deactivate. I don't think it'll work, but find something small, thin, and durable, and have Hudson spit on it_."

I reread Aran's response, and then looked at Hudson. "You got a credit card or something?"

"I'm not spitting on my credit card, man." Hudson yanked out his wallet. "Here. I'll spit on this expired gift card for Dunkin' Donuts. Never had the time to use it." He shoved his wallet back in his pocket, looked at the gift card, and made a disgusting sound before hocking a good-sized loogie on it. Sure enough, that loogie was full of silver flecks.

"I'm going to replace that gift card if your saliva ends up saving the day," I said.

"Sounds good. Get me the twenty-five-dollar one." Hudson stuck the card into the slot under the keypad. There was a long beep, followed by a heavy _click_. He turned, giving me and Aran a big, goofy grin. "It worked. You owe me a gift card, Drake."

I looked at Aran. "I'm gonna take some money from Delhoun. You'll say nothing, got it?"

Aran gave me a thumbs-up.

Every Annexer in the room cowered into the furthest corner of their cages when we entered the room. Some even hissed at us. However, as I carefully approached the cages, they cautiously came forward. They could smell Delhoun on me. _They know who treats them right and who treats them wrong._ I walked slowly around the room, allowing the Annexers to get ahold of my scent. I wouldn't call it a hypnotic effect. Not in the slightest. They just knew that I carried the scent of someone they trusted. "Hudson, hold open the door," I said. "I'm gonna let them all out."

Hudson put his hand on the door handle, and pulled. I unlatched each of the cages, coaxing each Annexer out. Some sprinted out, and others were a little more hesitant. After every cage was empty, it was time for us to flee as well. We could hear the thundering of the animals running down the hall, but then we heard a scream and some crashing. A window shattered, and alarms started ringing.

"We gotta run, man!" Hudson shouted.

The pain in my back had subsided a little, but running made it return rather quickly. Sensing my discomfort, Aran scooped me up as he followed Hudson back to the office where we entered. Throwing the window back open, Hudson shoved himself outside, and held out his arms to help me down as Aran carefully pushed me through. Karma kinda bit poor Aran in the ass, though. As he tried to get himself through, the window came down on his left hand. He shouted in pain, and I think what followed were curse words in his native language. Once he pulled his hand free, we made a run for it, disappearing into the streets of Brisbane.

* * *

I would awaken the next morning to feel something really cold and wet against my lower back. As my senses gradually sharpened, I heard Hudson snoring and Aran's deep breathing. It took me another moment to realize that I was in Delhoun's facility, but I was sleeping in Aran's room.

Slowly sitting up, I reached behind me and found a half-melted icepack. Then, I remembered what happened last night. _We tried to free the Annexers. That didn't go so well because they set off the alarms. We ran back to Delhoun's, and from that point on, I don't remember anything._ I stood up, wondering what time it was when we came back last night. It must've been really late because of how sluggish I was. There's no way I got anywhere close to eight hours of sleep.

With my foggy memory, I walked down to the kitchen to put the icepack back in the freezer. Someone had left a window open last night. I could hear the crickets and tropical birds and insects making their noisy early dawn calls, and the kitchen was cold. As I put the icepack away, I noticed I didn't shower. I've heard the phrase "a skunk never smells its own odor," but I was fully aware that I didn't smell too good. And I needed to shave. Hopefully, I'd feel better after a hot shower.

I spent more time just standing under the running water rather than bathing. At that point, I didn't care that it was once a high school locker room full of sweaty kids; a shower's a shower. Once I started rubbing soap onto a washcloth, the door flew open, and Hudson walked in. "'Morning, Drake!"

I didn't say anything in return.

"You conked out pretty quick last night." Hudson got under the showerhead next to mine, and tossed his pants behind him. I think he expected it to land by the rack where you hang your clothes, but it was instead draped on the sink. "Aran gave you an icepack for your back."

"I noticed," I replied. "Surprised I fell asleep with it."

"You fell asleep before you hit the floor, man. I didn't want you sleeping on tile, so I put some of my laundry under you."

I glared at him. "Clean or dirty?"

"Clean." Hudson snorted. "I wouldn't make you sleep on dirty laundry. Speaking of that, I think we need to go to a laundromat. My pile's getting pretty big."

"And it's even bigger since you let me sleep on the rest of your clean clothes." I glanced at him. "What're we going to do about last night?"

"What about it?"

"The Annexers. We have no idea if they left that building, not to mention they caused some damage. I don't think it's going to be difficult for them to figure out who broke them out."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, fingerprints. The police will have easy access to the USCM's files, so they'll trace us down easily. Plus, who else walks around with an eight-foot-tall alien? The security cameras probably picked up on that quickly." I sighed. "Apone's gonna kill us."

Hudson shrugged. "If we prove that those Annexers are being hurt, I'm pretty sure we'll get let off the hook. Besides, we know Hicks'll probably get behind us."

"No, we don't. Hicks won't excuse our shitty behavior."

"I don't think you know how much he actually cares, man. Like I said, you just gotta let people listen. Just, think about what I say, alright?"

A few days ago, I would've gotten pissed with him. Maybe it was because I was exhausted, or because I actually did want to think, but I simply nodded. "We don't even know when they're coming back. I really don't want to be stuck here forever, especially if Delhoun's gonna keep moping around all day."

"Hey, he reminds me of you now."

"That's not funny."

"No, of course it's not funny. You should go deal with him."

* * *

I promised I would talk to Delhoun after breakfast, but it turned out that I didn't have to wait. Just as I sat down at the table with coffee and leftover pancakes, Delhoun shouted, "Drake! I want your ass in my room _right now!_ " Sighing irritably, I put everything down and headed to Delhoun's bedroom.

I wasn't sure why the TV was on, because Delhoun can't see. He could listen though, and he said, "Please explain to me why there was a mass breakout of Annexers at the Brisbane community center."

I leaned against the doorway, putting my hands in my pockets. "Obviously, somebody let them out. Are you assuming it was me?"

"Of course I am! You went in there yesterday and overheard Doctor Garrett. Why should I not believe you snuck in last night and broke out the Annexers?"

"Well, I can't lie to you. It was me who broke out the Annexers. I had help from Aran, and Hudson's saliva got us into the kennel room."

There was silence, except for Delhoun sighing. "I don't know how to feel about this."

"I'm trying to help you," I said. "You're turning into the thing you didn't want to see _me_ become. Your work isn't worthless. It isn't your fault that your animals got hurt. You were lied to. It happens. At least you know to be more careful now."

Delhoun nodded. "I'm . . . I'm well-aware. It's just . . . easier said than done. You should know. I mean, I've been watching you grow, mentally, for the last month or so. I've seen you at your lowest, and I have yet to see you at your best."

"We're not talking about me. We're talking about you."

"Drake, I want you to just listen. Remember when we met on the space station?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't volunteer to guard you because I wanted to test out that security collar. That was a mere afterthought. I volunteered because I was steadily becoming depressed. I've spent a lot of time being away from home, away from civilization, away from Earth as a whole. I thought I was going to contribute something with my work. Even when I realized that Weyland-Yutani put me and my studies on the backburner, I started devoting some of my resources to putting Annexers in the pet market. I've written books and appeared in magazines for exotic pets. I'm following my family's tradition of working hard to achieve my own wealth. None of that could stop the primal desire for social interaction. I thought I could crush that, and I couldn't. I let it beat me down. I let myself . . . be overwhelmed by a hideous loneliness. It had gone on long enough when I heard that the Marines needed someone punished for their actions during a mission. Originally, they were going to put you in solitary confinement. I saved you. 'Let me watch him. I have some things I'd like to test,' I said. So the higher-ups put you in my care, and here we are today."

I frowned, shifting my weight. "So . . . you've _always_ been dissatisfied with your work?"

"Not always. It was exciting when I started out, but it began wearing me down. I couldn't just drop everything, though; I don't know what else to do, and I don't really trust anyone else with my animals. Many of them depend on me, and I can't . . . I can't abandon them."

"You feel stuck."

"Pretty much, yeah. I'll continue working until I can't take it anymore. I don't want that to be now." Delhoun turned his head in my direction. "I guess I needed to be a bitch for a day in order to feel better."

I raised an eyebrow. "You had me and Hudson and Aran worried. This was all a façade?"

"No, it wasn't a façade. I really am upset over the fact that Garrett lied to me, but, can I do anything about it now? No. I still have another day before I go back to the bloody hospital and get these goggles taken off." Delhoun groped around until he found his nightstand, and pulled himself out of bed. "I'm honestly impressed you took matters into your own hands, Drake. What I'm not impressed with is the fact that you didn't exactly get all the animals out of the building."

"What happened?"

"Security guards were able to round them back up before they could get out. Not to mention, they attacked a disabled resident." Delhoun sighed. "Either I get sued, or the Annexers get put down. I'd rather be sued."

* * *

 _Question of the Chapter: Would Drake's efforts be more successful if he was with Vasquez instead of Hudson? Why or why not?_


	8. Chapter 8

I don't want to see Delhoun get sued. I don't want to see any of his Annexers get put down. Life isn't fair. Of course, I should know that. I'm the expert at experiencing things that just aren't fair.

When I returned to the kitchen, I found the pancakes and coffee were cold, so I stuck both in the microwave for a few seconds. Despite having an icepack the whole night, standing and walking around since waking up didn't do much good for my back. I made the mistake of sitting down while waiting for my breakfast, because when the microwave beeped, I couldn't get myself to stand up.

"Are you OK, man?" Hudson asked when he entered the room. "Everything alright with Delhoun?"

"Yeah. That's not what's wrong," I replied. "The ice didn't do much good last night."

"Still sore, huh? Maybe the window came down so hard, it shoved a disc outta place."

"I'm starting to think that."

"Hey, I'll take you to a chiropractor. You got me the horseradish. It's the least I could do for you."

"Look, I don't want this . . . this 'vacation' to be us doing favor after favor for each other," I said.

"Alright, well, you should see someone 'bout your back, man." A lightbulb went off in Hudson's head. "Or . . . I could do it."

"Do what?"

"Pop your back."

"Oh, no. No, no, no. I'm not trusting you to do that. I'd rather go to a professional."

"Come on. This is cheaper, and you don't have to waste time in the car."

"You don't even know what you're doing!"

"How hard can it be?"

"No. I'm going into town, and I'm having this done by a professional."

"OK, man, suit yourself." Hudson opened the microwave. "Whose pancakes are these?"

"Mine. You can have them; I lost my appetite."

"What's this I'm hearing about Drake hurting his back?" Delhoun was slowly making his way into the kitchen by feeling the wall.

"Yeah. When we broke into that center, the window fell on him. It was an accident," Hudson said.

"Jesus, Drake, if I could see, I could probably put that disc back into place." Delhoun started patting the table. "Where the . . . bloody hell is my wallet? I'll give you money for a chiropractor, if you want."

"It's fine," I said. "Don't fuss."

Hudson sprayed whipped cream all over the pancakes, and then shamelessly sprayed more right in his mouth. Right before he could sit down, the phone in Delhoun's office began ringing.

"Go get that," Delhoun ordered. "Not you, Drake. Hudson, you get it."

Nodding, Hudson dashed into the next room, and Delhoun and I sat still, trying to listen.

"Hello? No, he's not feeling good right now. Can I . . . Hicks! How're you doing, man? We miss you down here! It's- . . . We're in trouble? . . . Both me and Drake? . . . OK . . . Dude, you don't understand. The place we broke into-they're hurting the Annexers . . . We rescued one. He's in rough shape- . . . Come on, Hicks, you gotta believe me. Drake'll tell you the same thing . . . I wouldn't say that, man. I thought you wanted to help Drake. Do you wanna talk to him? . . . You know what? That's fucking cowardly, man. If you wanna rip Drake a new one, why don't you do it now? He hasn't done nothing wrong. Give him a chance, man . . . It sounds more like you're quitting on him. He's supposed to be looking up to guys like you. Don't- . . . Oh, fuck you! You're quitting on him! You haven't even heard his side of the fucking story! . . . Oh, yeah, you'll talk to me when you get home. Yeah, right, Hicks. Yeah, you hang up on me, you chicken!"

We heard Hudson slam the phone down before he stormed back into the kitchen. He opened his mouth to say something, but then paused, deciding against it. A moment later, he said, "Drake? Can I talk to Delhoun alone?"

* * *

I can't pretend that I didn't hear Hudson's conversation with Hicks, but I wish I could forget about it. I left the kitchen feeling like a bag full of bricks had crash-landed on my shoulders, pinning me down underneath it. _I should've known Hicks didn't care all along,_ I thought. _I'm the idiot who actually wanted to trust him. He went and stabbed my back, a million miles away, no less! Jesus, Hudson's right; he's a coward._

Tears rolled down my face as I slumped against the wall in the hallway outside the kitchen. Hugging my knees, I rested my head on them, and began sobbing. First Miranda decided she didn't want to speak to me anymore, and now Hicks decides that I'm not worth listening to. _What am I doing wrong?_

When my crying subsided, I managed to take a deep breath and try to compose my thoughts. _I can't just back down like this. I can't just put everything down and cry. Then why is that all you do? Because . . . it's the only thing I know how to do. I'm sorry._

This isn't what Vasquez would want me to do. I'm pretty sure she'd want me to confront Hicks and demand to know what was going on. Why was he giving up on me? Why didn't he want to know why I broke into that Goddamn center?

 _He could be going through problems of his own, you know._

I hate it whenever my conscience brings up a good point, but it's a good point. I don't think anyone's even tried to get into Hicks's mind. His past could be just as rocky as mine, and he's just doing a better job at hiding it. Or, he's doing a terrible job, and is actually in a lot of pain. Frankly, I can't imagine Hicks in pain. I can't picture him tossing and turning at night, or absentmindedly picking at his food, or staring into space. I can't picture him wincing because a horrid memory is happily using his heart as a scratching post. I can't imagine him struggling not to burst into tears because he can't take his mind off every single little thing that's bothering him. I can't imagine him being completely unmotivated to do any daily basic tasks, like eating or getting dressed.

Am I unable to picture that because it just doesn't feel part of Hicks's character? Or is it because I'm still nursing bitterness towards him?

I shouldn't be nursing bitterness. I don't want to be nursing bitterness. If I want people to understand what I'm going through, I have to be conscientious that they could be suffering something similar. I know that when you're little, everyone tells you to "treat others the way you want to be treated." When you get older, you realize that stupid sayings like that don't apply to real-life. We're human; sometimes, we act on impulse. Do we regret it later on? Most of the time. Sometimes, we just want to be left alone, and treating others like crap might be the only way to achieve that. Sometimes, if you try to treat someone else the way you want to be treated, they don't reciprocate it. Trying to force them to do so only makes things worse. Again, we're human, and we have boundaries, and we can't all care for each other. I don't want to be nice to someone who hasn't been nice to me.

Hicks is an odd case, though. He's been nice to me, but I feel like it's because he wants to keep the squad together rather than examine who I am as an individual. If he had approached me as a human being rather than just another grunt when we first met, things would be different.

Give me a moment while I add that to the pile of things in the past that I wish I could change. Why does that pile get bigger, while the good memories are about the size of a grain of sand?

I think I've gone on about this long enough. Sooner or later, I'm going to start repeating myself, even though I'm sure I've repeated myself multiple times in all the journals I've written in.

* * *

Hudson volunteered to drive me to a chiropractor when he was done talking to Delhoun. They had been alone in the kitchen for around a half-hour, and when they emerged, I saw that no one had really eaten anything for breakfast. The pancakes that had been slathered with whipped cream, maple syrup, and chocolate hazelnut spread had been wrapped up in tinfoil, and put back in the fridge.

Right before Hudson and I were going to head into the city, a dark-blue SUV pulled up outside the parking lot, which was full of cracks that were sprouting grass and weeds. One of the windows rolled down, and Doctor Hornby shouted, "Good morning!"

"'Morning," I replied. "What're you doing here?"

Hornby put his parking brake on before stepping out, holding a small plastic bag. "I have Hudson's medicine. Thankfully, I didn't have to fill up a new bottle; I contacted Sergeant Apone to get permission to enter the base and grab the original." He handed me the plastic bag. "Oh, I almost forgot; he told me that when you, Drake, have the time, Hicks wants to chat with you, preferably in private. I wrote down the transmission access code for you, and you'll have to go to the travel station in town and use the military's radios. He didn't specify what it was about, only that it was personal."

My heart felt heavy. "I think I know what it's about. Thanks for . . . coming by, Hornby. I'm sorry we wasted your time."

"It was no problem at all. By the way, how did the horseradish work out?"

"It worked perfectly. Hudson started snotting silver almost instantly. Also, I think you should know that if you hock a silver loogie onto a card, you can break into computerized locks."

Hornby folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "How'd you figure that out?"

With that, I took Hornby aside, whispering to him the entire story of last night, and he was a little surprised about the Annexers.

"To me, it sounds like they took some rather extreme precautions when it comes to making sure the people enrolled in this program didn't get hurt. Annexers . . . they are trainable, right?"

"Yeah. Look, I don't know what happened or why things ended up the way they did, but the point is that if we don't do something, especially after last night, Delhoun's going to get sued and some of his animals could be put down."

"Well, if this does go to court, know I'll be fighting on Delhoun's side." Hornby turned, and was about to head back to his car when he paused and said, "May I ask you something, Drake?"

"Sure," I sighed.

"Are you . . . still angry about what happened in Washington?"

"Of course I am. I'm pretty sure everything you did set back Hudson's recovery by weeks." I bit my tongue, trying to think of something a little more constructive to say. "I know your research is probably going to help in the long run, but it doesn't excuse the fact that Hudson's been having nightmares and gets skittish whenever he's in a lab-like setting. It could gradually stop, or he could be traumatized forever, I don't know. What I do know is this; I can't hold onto a grudge for the rest of my life, and . . . if you're willing to help out Delhoun, be my guest. I won't stop you. You did come through when Hudson accidentally left his meds behind, and that's worthy of me accepting your apology."

Hornby frowned, then smiled. "Well, I certainly wasn't expecting you to have this change of heart so quickly."

"I have a lot of things on my chest that I'd like to get off. Let's leave it at that."

"Alright. I guess I'll be off, then. Have a nice day, Drake." Hornby shook my hand before turning to walk back to his car, and drive away.

I made Hudson take one of his pills before we could head off to find a chiropractor. He was glad that he got his medicine back, but he admitted he liked the horseradish better. At least he was in a decent mood, but as we pulled onto the main road, he had fallen silent. For once, he looked deep in thought.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Nothing. Just . . . thinking about earlier, that's all," Hudson replied, not even glancing at me.

"What'd you need to talk to Delhoun about?"

"If I wanted you to know, I wouldn't have said that I wanted to speak to him alone. It's stuff I want to stay between me and him." Hudson was silent for a few moments, his gaze switching between the road and the rearview mirror. He gave a heavy sigh, and his shoulders slumped a little. "It was about Hicks. I know I got mad at him over the phone, but, you know what, man? I'm worried about him."

"You accused him of being a coward. I don't read that as you being worried about him."

"That's 'cause I thought about it afterward." Hudson looked at me when we were at a stoplight. "I think we all pushed him a little too hard when it came to him wanting to help us. We treated it as a joke."

"He ran headfirst into something he should've thought about beforehand. Now, he regrets it. That's probably all."

"Well, you don't know that-" Hudson slammed on the brakes right before he passed a sign for a chiropractor. "Whoopsie, almost missed it." The car behind us honked angrily as Hudson backed up to pull into the parking lot. "Sorry, man."

I rolled my eyes as Hudson tried to find a good place to park. Eventually, he stopped right next to the front door of the small building. "I'm not a little old man," I said. "I can walk."

"I know. I just don't want you to put anymore strain on your back, man." Hudson got out of the car, and ran to my side in order to help me out.

"I don't need your help," I snarled.

Hudson still held out his arms as I stepped out of the car, but, instead of helping me, he took the opportunity to give me a hug.

Now, I can't say I didn't appreciate the hug, but I would've liked it better if we weren't in public. Despite that, I put my arms around him as well, and patted his back. "What's the point of this, Hudson?"

"You looked like you needed a hug."

"OK, can you hug me later? Maybe after I get my back fixed?"

He let go, and followed me into the small office. Aside from the skeletons and spine diagrams on the walls, the waiting room was actually nice. Magazines littered the table, and the TV was on the cooking channel. While Hudson sat down, I approached the front desk to ask about whether or not this Doctor Jenkins would take walk-ins. A minute later, a lanky man with light-brown hair peered around the corner.

"G'day, mate," he said, holding out his hand. "I take walk-ins, alright." He grinned as he shook my hand. "I'm Mr. Jenkins, not 'doctor.' Well, now, don't be shy. What's your name?"

"Private Mark Drake, sir," I said, softly.

"Private? Colonial Marines, I suppose?"

I nodded.

"Thank you for your service, mate. I should be calling you 'sir,' not the other way around."

I felt my face heat up, and struggled to swallow past my nasty habit of self-loathing. "Look, I just need to see if I slipped a disc. I'm not here to make chitchat."

"Right to the point, eh?" Jenkins led me to a room down the hall, and told me to remove my shirt. "Jesus, what'd you do here? That's a lovely bruise you got there."

"Um . . ." _How do I explain this without digging myself into a big hole?_ "I fell."

"Doesn't look like _you_ fell. Looks like something landed on it."

"Yeah. A window."

"Surprisingly, that's not the most interesting story I've gotten around here." Jenkins gently probed my back. "How long ago did this happen?"

"Last night."

"You have any weakness or numbness in your limbs?"

"No. It hurts when I stand."

"Well, I hate to do this to you, but bend over." As I bent forward, Jenkins ran his finger down the curve of my spine, feeling the area around the bruise. "Consider yourself lucky, mate; that's just a very bad bruise. You didn't slip a disc."

"That's it? It doesn't feel like it's just a bruise."

"It feels worse because your back is full of nerves. That bruise should clear up in a few days. If not, I would go see a specialist about it. Take it easy for now."

I felt like I had wasted both my time and his. At least I now know that it was just a bruise and not a slipped disc, but I still wasted five minutes of Jenkins's time to look at a damn bruise. Not only that, the fact that it was just a bruise made me feel stupid and paranoid. I guess it was a reasonable fear, but, still.

* * *

"I didn't hear any screaming," Hudson said when we got back in the car. "Did he pop your back?"

"I didn't need it. It's just a bruise," I replied.

"Shouldn't that make you feel better? It's nothing serious."

"I wasted his time! I wasted everyone's time."

"No, you didn't, Drake. You got it checked out to make sure it wasn't a slipped disc. I assumed it was, and it's a good thing we didn't start popping things, because that wouldn't do anything."

I sighed.

"Hey, at least I didn't have to sit and watch the cooking channel for much longer."

I was about to ask, "Why's that?" but Hudson's growling stomach answered that question for me. Instead, I said, "I don't want to eat out today. We're both going to be accused of becoming too good for the rations."

"Well, just actually eat the rations and then no one'll say anything. I don't see what the problem is. I'm glad I'm not eating powdered eggs and freeze-dried ham every single day."

Considering I couldn't come up with an argument, I said nothing until we got back to Delhoun's. I'm guessing the poor guy got restless and tired of sitting all day, so Hudson and I were treated to the amusing sight of him blindly attempting to water the flowers that lined the building.

"Do you need help?" I asked, watching Delhoun spray water on the grass in front of the flowers.

"No," Delhoun replied. "I can do this myself."

"You realize the flowers are a good five inches away from where the water's going, right?"

"Drake, you can go sit on a porcupine for all I care."

"I'm just letting you know that you're not actually watering the plants."

"Well, you're not doing it for me. I'm tired of sitting on my ass all day, waiting for someone to say 'OK, you can take the goggles off now.' I need to do something."

I rolled my eyes. "Alright. Knock yourself out." I walked into the building, and remembered Hornby gave me the access code for when I decided to contact Hicks. Part of me wanted to do that as soon as possible, but I also wasn't sure I was ready to talk to him without becoming upset. I decided I would wait another few hours, and let myself think.

* * *

 _Question of the Chapter: Is Hudson right for trying to stick up for Drake, or does he need to learn when to back off?_

 _Author's Note: Imagine what could've happened if Aran didn't let the window fall on Drake; he wouldn't be sore, so he would've been the one to pick up the phone instead of Hudson. I mean, you can't necessarily blame Aran, but it does kinda link back to his semi-carelessness. Engineers are a bit ridiculous when it comes to strength, so it's amazing Aran didn't shatter the whole window in the process.  
_

 _I'm aware that Miranda hasn't been brought up in the last two chapters. Frankly, even though I have the majority of the story mapped out, I'm not sure how to go about resolving the conflict between her and Drake. Should it be left for another story, or be gradually worked out through the remainder of this one? I personally feel like it should be mentioned only during the remainder of this story in order to create some conflict between Drake and Vasquez. At the same time, I don't think that's fair to either of them considering I let them resolve their issues, and Drake has enough on his mind._


	9. Chapter 9

When it came to the "horseradish treatment" we had Hudson on for about twenty-four hours, the best part about it was that we didn't have to worry about Annexer hormones causing aggressive fits. Now that he's back on the trial pill, I've been keeping a much closer eye on him. It's pretty easy to make Hudson nervous and high-strung, and with the pill, that basically makes him a ticking time bomb.

At least the only thing we had to worry about with spicy foods was indigestion. Around an hour after Hudson restarted his medicine, he looked ready to fall asleep. Silver fluid had made sticky splotches all over his shirt, and metallic beads were running from his eyes.

"If you wanna take a nap, your room's down the hall," I said when I found him sitting in the kitchen with his arms rested on the back of a chair.

The energy was just gone. It was like I was dealing with a completely different person. Sighing, I grabbed a chair and sat next to Hudson, putting my arm around him. I figured that was probably all he wanted right now. Sometimes, that's all anyone wants when they don't feel well; someone to sit with them and let them know they're not alone.

I also felt like I needed to sit and do nothing for awhile. I had told myself that I needed to compose myself before trying to call Hicks, because I didn't want to make things worse for myself or him.

Time seemed to slow down, and I could feel my heart doing the same. If we were on base, with the rest of the squad, something like this probably wouldn't happen. I think I've mentioned before that certain things change when you're alone, especially when it comes to your behavior and personality. Even though we weren't technically alone, we were still separated from the unwritten rules of "being a team." The parts of ourselves that we bury in order to keep the team functioning have been dug up. The things we really think about each other have come to the surfaces of our brains. We felt more human. We felt like we were getting to know each other as people compared to teammates.

My mind turned back to Hicks. How long has it been since the deeper parts of his personality have been unearthed? Are we seeing just the skeleton of who he really is? Is this one of the reasons he wants a private phone call with me? Is he planning on attempting to connect with me on a man-to-man level? The only way to find out is to go make that call.

I patted Hudson's shoulder as I stood up. "I'm gonna . . . go get some groceries." I felt bad for leaving, but I knew this had to be done.

* * *

It was raining as I drove into Brisbane on my own. I'm not wholly convinced it was a sign that things weren't going to go well with this conversation, but rain is one of the dreariest things in the world.

After adjusting the hood of my jacket, I stepped out into the rain. My heart was pounding as I walked into the travel building, and requested to make my call through the USCM's off-planet transmitters. I was led to a large, dark room with hundreds of monitors, and left alone when I took a seat. Once I confirmed that I was indeed a Marine, a blank bar appeared onscreen, asking me to put in an access code, which I had in my pocket. I waited as the computer processed the code, and then it told me it was waiting for the receiver to activate a connection. _I didn't choose a bad time, did I? This could take hours._

It didn't take hours, thank God. Ten minutes later, the screen flickered, and I saw Hicks sitting down in front of a monitor. It's only been about four days since we last saw each other, but Hicks looked like he had been stranded in the middle of nowhere for weeks. He took a deep breath before saying, "I'm gonna cut right to the point, Drake; I'm sorry. I'm sure . . . Hudson told you what happened when I called earlier this morning."

"I heard his side of the conversation, but I could kinda guess at what you were saying by his reactions," I replied.

"Well, again, I'm sorry. I . . . I'm not quitting on you. I'm not quitting on anyone. I want to know exactly what's going on down there."

"Delhoun allowed a community center to adopt ten Annexers a little over a year ago. It was for some kind of program to help people with special needs, but instead of training the animals and teaching the people in the program that, you know, they're animals and not stuffed toys, the guy in charge tried forcibly controlling the Annexers in order to pacify them. They're hurt pretty bad, and I'm trying to get evidence to get a trial rolling."

"Drake, I know Delhoun matters to you, but I think you need to leave this in the hands of people who know what they're doing. If you do that, I won't say a word to any USCM brass about what you did, OK?"

I nodded. "That sounds fair. Was that . . . all you wanted to talk about?"

"No, there's more. How's Hudson doing, health-wise? Is he getting better, getting worse?"

"Pretty good. Funny story, actually, he left his medicine on base, so we had to feed him horseradish in order to keep flushing the toxin from his body."

Hicks smirked a little. "Yeah, Hornby was telling Apone that a few hours ago. Right after I called you guys, too. How's he doing mentally?"

"Great up until he started the pills again. His energy plummeted like a rock in a pool and now he's not all that willing to do anything."

"Hey, if that stuff works . . ." Hicks shrugged. "Anyway, Drake, I just . . . I don't want you to feel like people are abandoning you. There's a lot of stuff that I shouldn't have told Hudson. I mean, it sounds like you two are getting along the way he was defending you. I know having one person behind your back is better than none, but, feeling like someone else is trying to cut you off still hurts. I guess I should've worded a lot of what I said better."

"Is everything OK up there?"

"Physically, yeah. We're just waiting for a new server to arrive because the old one blew up. I really haven't slept in over forty-eight hours. Took extra patrol duty because Vasquez got hurt."

My heart began thumping harder. "Is she gonna be OK?"

"Yeah. It's just a sprained shoulder. Nothing major. She'll be in a sling for a couple weeks. Can't lift her smartgun, or anything heavier than a few pounds."

"What happened?"

"Well, everyone was kinda recovering from the shock of going into space after we've been in normal conditions for the last month or so. We were all feeling kind of weak, but we pushed through it anyway. Vasquez was trying to get debris outta the way to free the employees stuck here, and accidentally twisted her arm a little too hard."

I couldn't swallow past the lump in my throat. I wanted so badly to ask Hicks if I could talk to her, but I took a breath, telling myself to calm down. There were a lot of things I wanted to say, but something was telling me to just keep it to myself. "So, you're not feeling so hot, either?"

"No, not really. Haven't slept, and I'm eating the bare minimum of what we're supposed to be consuming on a daily basis." Hicks sighed. "At least when we went to LV-400, there was some degree of life. Even though there's this massive complex here, there's just . . . nothing. All I see is the fucking surface of the Moon, and then this black void. If you go to the right spot in the complex, and look out a window, you can see Earth." He swallowed hard, then rubbed his face.

"You need to get some sleep," I said. "I don't know if it'll make you feel better, but it'll do you some good, I think."

We really didn't say anything for several minutes; we just watched each other breathe. Eventually, Hicks sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "Are we clear on everything? You and Hudson aren't in trouble. I'm not abandoning all efforts to help you. I mean, I'm not happy about Hudson calling me a chicken, but I've heard worse come out of his mouth."

"I'm good if you are. I think what we need to do is set aside some time when you guys come back. Sit in a room alone and let our emotions boil to the surface so we can get to the root of our problems. Think of it as lancing and draining an abscess."

Hicks nodded. "We'll do that as soon as we get settled in, alright? I'm gonna put you first and worry about the rest of the squad later."

I knew that making sure the team was functional was something important to Hicks, but I didn't want to argue that his wants and needs came first; he was trying to put himself aside to help me, and I needed to stop pushing people away. "Sounds good to me. Feel better." We were about to deactivate the satellite connection, but I stopped and said, "Hicks? Tell Vasquez I'm thinking about her. Let her know I miss target practice with her." I knew Vasquez would know "missing target practice" was code for "I love you." A lot of our code has to do with smartguns, just to keep our relationship under wraps.

* * *

I was surprised at how satisfying that talk was. The feeling of clearer air was something I haven't felt in a long time. I didn't have to break Hicks, I didn't make him feel bad. It was just talk between two people. That's all.

The happy feeling quickly dissipated when I got back to Delhoun's. There was an eerie silence about the building, and it made me worried. In the kitchen, I found that Hudson had left. My first guess was that he finally went to get some rest, but the trail of silver droplets weren't leading to the room he was sharing with Aran. In fact, they weren't even leading to a room in the building; they were leading outside.

OK, so he went for a walk. Nothing to worry about.

 _It's not like Hudson to just go for a walk. Not unless something's really bothering him._ I quickened my pace as I headed toward Delhoun's bedroom, and knocked on the open door. "Delhoun? Do you know where Hudson is?"

Delhoun frowned. "No, I don't know where he is. Why do you ask?"

"He's gone."

"Did you look all over the building?"

"I don't have to. There's a silver trail leading outside. Hornby brought back his medicine this morning, so I'm kinda worried he's not thinking clearly."

"Well, if you're worried about that, my tranquilizer gun is in the closet."

"I'm not walking into Brisbane with a giant dart gun. I'll get in trouble."

"Suit yourself, then. Have fun finding Hudson."

* * *

I jumped back into the car, and quickly peeled out of the driveway before speeding toward Brisbane's downtown area. There's no way Hudson got too far, especially in his current state. I glanced left and right, hoping to spot him wandering aimlessly down the street. Unfortunately, I didn't see him.

I'm not entirely sure what I was more worried about; Hudson getting hurt, or Hudson hurting someone on accident. One of the two was going to happen, no doubt about it. Unless, Hudson really did just go for a walk and is completely fine. If that was the case, that's just more proof that I'm an idiot.

I gradually got more and more worried as I drove deeper into the city. There was no sign of Hudson anywhere. Sighing, I tried to force myself to concentrate as I kept driving. That was hard when I hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch, I haven't drank any coffee, and I was still feeling a very dull, throbbing ache from that Goddamn bruise in my lumbar region. I was going to find Hudson, no matter what. I've wallowed in my pain enough.

When I finally found him, I had driven to a section full of apartment complexes and shops squeezed in between the tall buildings. Hudson was walking rather casually down the street. He was soaking wet since he didn't have a raincoat. Several yards ahead of him was a familiar figure, standing and talking to a shorter man. That familiar figure was Doctor Garrett.

I pulled up the hood of my jacket, hoping Garrett didn't see me or recognize me. Somehow, I had to get Hudson's attention. Pressing a button to lower the window, I hissed over the rain, "Hudson!"

He glanced at me, but didn't stray from his path.

 _What the hell is he doing?_ I parked the car on the side of the street, and pushed myself out through the passenger side. Hudson hadn't stopped, and he wasn't even looking at me now. It took me awhile to realize that he was stalking Garrett. "Hudson, no!"

Garrett was suddenly tackled from behind. He screamed in terror when he realized Hudson was on top of him, hands wrapped tightly around his throat. People were running or pulling out their phones to call police. "Get off me!" Garrett gasped. "Who are you?! What do you want?!"

"Gonna pay for what you did!" Hudson snarled. Keeping his right hand on Garrett's neck, he punched the man in the face with his left. Blood began running from Garrett's nose and mixed with the rain.

A big, burly man grabbed Hudson, yanking him off effortlessly. "Sick son-of-a-bitch," he mumbled before punching Hudson.

After a second of reeling, Hudson retaliated with an uppercut to the burly man's jaw. For that, he was slugged in the shoulder. The burly man was about to bash Hudson's skull against the wall when I drove my fist into the side of his gut. He cursed, grabbing his side, and letting go of Hudson. I dodged a swing, and kicked the man in his crown jewels.

Some guys emerging from a nearby bar decided to get in on the fight. Two of them overpowered me, and were about to slam me into the brick wall when Hudson grabbed one of them by the shoulders and sank his teeth into the base of his neck. The bitten man drove his elbow into Hudson's chest. I had the second man over my shoulder. He was trying to take my arms or choke me, and then begged for mercy when I body-slammed him on the sidewalk.

It didn't take that long for the cops to arrive. They pushed the onlookers away, and yelled at us to break it up while separating us with pistols and clubs. Garrett was behind them, shaking from fear. He was about to say something to one of the officers, but when he saw my face, he stopped.

* * *

Despite insisting I wasn't badly hurt, the police still ordered everyone involved in the fight to go to the hospital. All I had were bad bruises on my shoulders, and my back was scraped up from being against the wall. My right arm was covered in cuts, and the nurse took her sweet time in wrapping the entire limb in bandages.

"Where's Hudson?" I groaned, anxious to leave.

"Next room over. They're still treating him. It'll be awhile," the nurse replied. "Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Maybe some juice?"

"Water's fine," I said. When the nurse finally left, I sighed as I looked around the room. Everything was bright aside from the window; outside, it was still raining, and getting darker. The soreness throughout my body seemed to pulsate, and it took some time before I felt a little more relaxed. My brain left "stressed" mode, and returned to its normal duties.

The nurse came back with a paper cup full of water. "You'll be discharged in a half-hour," she said, handing me the cup. "Do you have a ride? Family?"

"I'm not leaving without Hudson," I said.

The nurse glanced at the wall. "I'll . . . talk to the doctors about that." She left again, and I rolled my eyes.

I was sure it was going to take more than a half-hour to get me out of here, and even longer if I wanted to leave with Hudson. Sighing, I took the TV remote from one of the tables, and was about to turn the television on when I heard Hudson's familiar scream in the next room, followed by someone yelling, "Can we get an anesthesiologist in here, please?"

Taking another deep breath, I restrained myself from getting up and barging into the other room. Hearing Hudson's screaming was making that difficult. Eventually, though, someone must've come in and drugged him, because the noise stopped.

I finished my water, and had become so restless that I decided to get up and walk around the room. It had gotten darker outside, and the rain was coming down a tad harder. As I looked, I saw a flash of lightning near the coastline. _Maybe we should just stay here for the night. Dammit, I left the car on the street where the fight broke out. Delhoun and Aran could call a taxi. I should probably . . . No, that wouldn't work. Delhoun's blind and Aran can't speak English; I can't give them a phone call._ The only other option I had was Hornby. I know I've slowly been learning to trust him over the last day or so, but that didn't mean I wanted to be best friends with him. However, much like with the horseradish, I didn't have much of a choice.

Ten minutes later, a tall, stocky doctor entered the room. He asked me a few questions, checked my vital signs, had me sign some documents, and told me I was free to go. Again, I demanded to see Hudson. Without much hesitation, I was led to Hudson's room.

He was still sedated, so he wasn't very responsive to anything. I then asked if I could call Hornby, just to do something while waiting for Hudson to wake up, and I was taken downstairs. The doctor left me alone in a room, letting me have some privacy while I called.

"Good evening," Hornby said when he picked up, "May I ask who's calling?"

"It's Drake," I replied. "Look, I don't want to be a pain in the ass, but Hudson and I need a ride."

"What happened?"

"A few hours after Hudson restarted the pill, he wandered out of Delhoun's facility. I think he was just taking a walk, but when I found him, he was stalking Doctor Garrett to attack him. Long story short, a fight broke out, and we're at the hospital."

"Are you two OK?"

"For the most part, yeah. Just a little banged up."

"Are you both being discharged?"

"I was. Now, I'm just waiting for Hudson."

"Alright. Sit tight, Drake, I'll come by and drop you off at Delhoun's. D-Don't bother trying to thank me. It's the least I could do to . . . make up for everything." He hung up, and I sat for a moment before putting the phone down as well.

* * *

Hudson woke up not too long after my conversation with Hornby ended. He definitely looked confused, but his confusion turned to sadness when he looked to his right to see me sitting by his bed. "Did I do something wrong?" he whispered.

"Yeah. You stalked and tried to beat up a man," I replied. "It's not your fault, OK? Your medicine can make your brain go a little wonky. If anything, it's my fault because I didn't stop you from leaving the building."

"Well, where'd you go, man?"

"I . . . had to call Hicks. Everything's OK, though. We talked and made sure there's no misunderstandings. He's not trying to abandon all efforts to help me."

"And how's he doing?"

I opened my mouth to tell Hudson what Hicks said to me, but then I stopped, feeling like I should keep that between me and Hicks. "He's . . . tired. That's all. Having trouble getting used to no day-night cycle. How're you doing?"

"For a moment, I thought I was back in that lab. Then someone stuck me with a needle and I woke up to see you."

"The good news is that we're going to Delhoun's soon. I called Hornby, because he's kinda the only person in the immediate area that can drive us."

With nothing more to add to the conversation, we sat still, waiting patiently for Hudson to be discharged. The same doctor from earlier finally came in to look over Hudson, but his exam wasn't as quick as mine because of the much more significant presence of the silver flower toxin. I tried to butt in by saying Hudson was already on medication for it, but the doctor wanted to keep Hudson overnight for observation.

I was tired and royally pissed off. Without much thought, I stood up, and began yelling at the man for holding us up. Before things could get worse, Hornby showed up, and was able to diffuse the situation, mainly because he had all his identification that he was a Weyland-Yutani scientist with published papers on the silver flower. That was all it really took for Hudson to be let go, and it brought me back to feeling like I have little-to-no worth to anyone.

It was quiet while Hornby drove us back, aside from the rain pelting the car and the occasional crash of thunder. He didn't try to make conversation with us, and we didn't try to make conversation with him. I just wanted to forget this whole stupid incident happened. Attacking Garrett wasn't going to bring us any closer to justice for the Annexers, nor was it going to bring the rest of the Marines back to base quicker.

There was a part of me that wanted to say, "I want to go home," but I don't have a home. I don't want to regard Delhoun's facility as home, or the base as home, because it's not. Frankly, I don't even know what "home" feels like. Is it something I'll know when I come across it, or am I destined to never find out?

* * *

 _Question of the Chapter: Is Hicks right in trusting Drake, or will Drake always put his personal problems above everyone else's?_

 _Author's Note: The dynamic between Drake and Hudson is probably my favorite thing to work with in this story, especially since it was something barely touched upon in the movie. A lot of friendships/relationships/dynamics between the Marines were hinted at, but not delved into, and it makes me think about the things that ran through people's heads after watching their comrades get picked off. Even though these stories aren't canon, I wonder what Hudson was thinking about (other than sheer terror) after Drake is killed._


	10. Chapter 10

It was a good thing we didn't try to call Delhoun, because he was fast asleep when Hudson and I came back. Even Aran was already in bed. I guess they decided I'd be searching all night and would be back by morning. Damn, I wish I was that level-headed.

Without bothering to grab something quick to eat, I changed into some dry clothes before getting on the couch in Delhoun's room. Laying on some of the bruises (especially the one on my back) was painful, and I struggled to find a comfortable position to lay in. Unfortunately, the end result was me looking like a demented bird in flight, with my knees drawn up. The positon my head was in made me start snoring, which ended up bothering Delhoun and Winnie at some time during the night. Now, I didn't get to tell them the whole story, but I was able to argue that I hurt and it was hard for me to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Delhoun ended up spending the rest of the night buried under the blanket, along with Winnie.

They no longer had to suffer around seven AM. I woke up from a dreamless sleep, feeling as though my body had been beaten with a hammer. Getting up and walking around for a bit didn't help. When I went into the locker room to shower, I managed to get a look at my back in the mirror. The scrapes had started to heal, and all of them were covered in hard, rough scabs. I then wanted to remove the bandages from my arm, but found they were so tightly wrapped that it was almost impossible to get them off without help, so I went out into the hall to get Hudson.

It wasn't all that hard to get him up, but I felt bad because he was just as tired and sore as I was. Despite that, he followed me into the locker room, mumbling, "Why d'you wanna get the bandages off anyways, man?"

"I want to see if they're healing," I replied.

Shrugging, Hudson gripped my shoulder before ripping half the bandage off. "I don't see what's so hard about it," he muttered after I howled in pain. "Hold still, lemme get the rest." He then commented that, without the cuts, my right arm was now as smooth as "a newborn baby's naked butt."

"I don't find that flattering," I grunted.

"Well, that's a lot coming from the guy who said I should get my chest waxed."

"Your chest is different from your arms." I looked down at the cuts, all of which were healing nicely.

"Yeah, man, ladies are gonna just love all the bruises, too."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't see how your bruises are any more attractive."

"I didn't say they are." Hudson began removing his bandages as well. He glanced at me as I laid a T-shirt and shorts on a rack before getting under a showerhead. "Are you OK, Drake?"

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. You seem . . . annoyed, again. What's bugging you now?"

I thought for a moment, feeling a small sense of relief come over me as hot water struck my skin. "Just some thoughts I was having last night."

"Like what?"

"When Hornby was driving us back here, I kept telling myself that . . . I can't use the word 'home' when I'm saying that I want to leave somewhere and go back to Delhoun's or back to base. It's not home. I don't feel like any place I've stayed at is home."

Hudson took a minute to think. "Didn't you bring something like this up when you were feeling pissy?"

"Yeah. That's . . . in the past. I know, I have a hard time letting go of the past, but, I'm trying to just . . . think of now."

"OK, OK. So . . . home. The word kinda bugs you because you don't have an actual place to call home."

"Yes."

"You don't even consider Pittsburgh to be home?"

"I don't want to. Not if that's the place where I completely fucked up my life."

"OK. I can understand that. Can I ask one thing, though?"

"Sure."

"Is your goal in life to finally confront your past, or keep running from it?"

"I wish I could confront it. When I try, it pushes back, and it pushes back hard."

"Well, you gotta push back even harder, man. Can't let it control you like that."

"Everyone tells me that," I replied. "I don't know how to not let it control me. Sometimes, I feel like running is the best choice. I'll get away from it eventually."

"Drake, the only way you're gonna escape your past is if you quit the Marines and go live in the woods. Even then, I don't think you'll be able to escape your past. Maybe you won't see physical reminders, but you still have memories, and those aren't going away unless you give yourself amnesia." Hudson turned off the water, and reached behind him to grab a towel. "Don't give yourself amnesia, man, I'm pretty sure you got some good memories in there. Besides, I don't wanna see you leave, and I don't think anyone else wants to see you leave."

I sighed. "Trust me, Hudson, I want to believe you, but I want to feel like other people care before I make any life-changing decisions."

I definitely should've worded that differently. Hudson fell silent as he began dressing himself, and then glared at me. "Really? Everything I've done over the last few days isn't enough for you to feel like I care?"

"I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about the rest of the squad."

"Oh, I get it." Hudson broke eye contact with me to adjust his belt. "This is about Hicks. You want Hicks to care."

"I really don't care if he cares. I appreciate it, but I don't care."

"Don't lie to me, man. You want Hicks to care. This is what I was talking about a couple days ago; try not to bottle things up so easily. It's not gonna upset anyone. Frankly, I don't think it'll upset Hicks at all, especially since you gave his idea to help you the middle finger."

I took another glance at my wounds in the mirror. "Yeah. That's the whole reason why." I had already covered up a lot of what Hicks told me yesterday. Telling Hudson now would give him the impression that I didn't trust him. Is it possible for friends to keep secrets from other friends, or is it just to going to erupt into a giant mess if I don't spill the secrets of one friend to another?

* * *

I'm aware it's mean to take advantage of Delhoun's condition, but what Hudson and I did was completely harmless; instead of giving him cereal, like he asked me to, I filled the bowl with oyster crackers. I wasn't entirely sure if oyster crackers and milk actually tastes bad, but I guess it does to Delhoun. As soon as he took a bite, he started gagging, and felt around the table for a napkin. After coughing and gagging, he said, "Drake, what the hell is this?! This isn't cereal!"

"I know," I said. "It's oyster crackers in milk."

"Don't do that!"

"Here's your toast, man." Hudson dropped a sponge in front of Delhoun.

Now we know that Delhoun's become too trusting of us, because he actually bit into the sponge. "Oh, bloody hell!" he shouted, trying to spit the taste of sponge out of his mouth.

I smirked. "You coulda done better than that, Hudson."

"Yeah, but I didn't wanna be too cruel." Hudson took the sponge from Delhoun before filling a glass with water. "Drake, can I have my pills?"

I handed him the bottle, then took my breakfast out of the microwave. Once everyone was seated at the table, the room fell silent, aside from the sound of forks and spoons hitting plates and bowls.

"That's right. We have to pick up Toby today," Delhoun muttered to himself. "Drake, would you mind driving to the vet?"

I felt like a swallowed a lead ball, remembering that I had left the car in Brisbane. "Um . . . I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because . . . I left the car in the city."

"It wasn't his fault, man," Hudson said. "We got in a fight with some guys outside a bar, and almost got arrested and then got sent to the hospital. We were let go, though. Hornby kinda saved our asses."

"So, let me get this straight. Because you two got in a fight, my car is in police custody?" Delhoun banged his fist on the table. "You morons didn't get my car back?!"

"We kinda forgot," Hudson mumbled.

"Of course you did." Delhoun's pale face began turning a faint shade of pink. "Can I trust you to do anything around here?"

"Yes," I said. "Look, it's not that hard to get your car back. I'll call a taxi."

"You better. I can't believe this."

"Don't get mad at me. It's not my fault, or anyone's fault, that Hudson wandered out of the building. I should've stopped him from attacking Garrett, but-"

"Wait, he attacked Doctor Garrett?"

"Yeah."

Delhoun let out a long sigh. "This is going to throw a monkey wrench into rescuing the Annexers. I don't even have the lawsuit in order, and here I have someone under my care deciding to go out and attack Garrett."

"It wasn't his decision."

"Big fucking deal! He needs to be controlled while he's on that pill!"

You could practically smell the tension in the air. Hudson set his fork down, and took his half-eaten breakfast to throw it out. Without a word, he left the room, giving me the freedom to explode on Delhoun.

"He went to you yesterday for a problem, and this is how you treat him in return?" I said. "I thought _I_ was bad when it came to dealing with people! What the hell was that for?"

"Did I know he was going to get his medicine back?" Delhoun hissed. "No. Did I know he was going to wander off? No-"

"Yes, you did. You're the one we called when Bishop found Annexer hormones in the pills. You told us what we should do in order to keep Hudson from having such bad reactions. Don't tell me that because you're temporarily blind, you have no excuses. That's a stupid excuse. You know full well that Hudson needs to be looked after while he's taking that medication. We have both worked our asses off, trying to help you, and this is the 'thanks' we get? I don't care about the money, or the food, or the shelter. I just want to hear one fucking heartfelt 'thank you' from you."

"Get my damn car back, and I'll thank you."

Appalled, I backhanded Delhoun sharply across the face, almost knocking his goggles off. "You know what? I'll give you a few hours to think about it."

* * *

Throughout the day, I've been thinking that sometimes it's better to just visit your friends. We've spent almost five days together, and we're starting to turn on each other. Are we just tired of seeing each other and sick of each other's habits and personalities? Or is Delhoun just one of those people that you can only tolerate for a few hours at a time? I'm beginning to think the latter.

Anyway, I didn't want to feel that way about him, or anyone, for that matter. But, I can't ignore the fact that we're all starting to hate each other for random reasons.

After slapping Delhoun, I went into the yard to find Hudson sitting on the bench. It was obvious he had been crying, and Hudson's not the type of person who bursts into tears easily. Panicking? Yes. Crying? Not so much. I guess what Delhoun said really got to him. The rest of the Marines have given Hudson shit, but at least we know each other. Hudson and Delhoun really don't know each other that well, and it was pretty ballsy of Hudson to talk to Delhoun alone yesterday considering that. Having that fragile, newborn trust broken really hurts.

I also think Hudson is restless. He's never really been taken out of a mission before, and just wants to do something to feel useful. I know that feeling all too well.

Sitting next to Hudson, I gave him a brotherly embrace. He sniffed, and I noticed silver fluid was dripping onto the grass. "You doing OK, bud?" I asked.

He swallowed past a lump in his throat. "How long's it gonna take before I stop being a metal faucet?"

"Probably whenever you finish the pills. I don't know."

"Jesus Christ, man. If . . . If only I hadn't run into that building without protection."

"Hey, that wasn't your fault. You didn't know, and nobody else knew."

He nodded. "It still feels like something coulda been done to keep all this from happening."

"Well, it happened, and there's nothing you can do about that." I sighed. "I should definitely know that. Do you have any idea how many times I've wished I could change my past?"

"A lot?"

"Yeah. A lot. I'm still trying to stop myself from thinking things like that, because it's not going to happen. Hell, I don't even think redemption's gonna happen for me. Not with my streak of luck."

Hudson was quiet before giving me a curious glance. "What exactly did you do to get in prison, man?"

I realized I probably should've kept the topic on Hudson's issues rather than switch it to my own. This question was coming sooner or later, but I didn't think it'd be now. Giving another sigh, I said, "Promise you won't say anything to anyone?"

"Promise."

"OK." I bit my lip, trying to think of the simplest way I could explain what happened without hurting myself. "I stole someone's car, killed one person, and hurt three others."

I could tell Hudson wanted to ask why, but the look on his face told me that he knew asking more questions was going to dig up a lot of pain that I've been trying to bury for the last several years.

"Trust me, I didn't want to do that. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I had to do something to protect myself." I rubbed my face, guilt beginning to seep from the cracks in my memory.

Hudson patted my shoulder. "Shit happens, man. I dunno, I feel like if you said something before . . . we'd be able to help you."

"It ruined my life. Do you think this is easy for me to talk about?"

"No, of course not. I mean, like, if you said something to me, earlier . . . you know what I mean."

I shook my head. "I really don't like telling people what happened."

"Well, would you rather tell them the truth, or let them assume that you did something worse?"

There are times where I have to tell myself that Hudson is capable of thinking without much prompt. He brought up a good point. "Yes, I'd rather tell them the truth, but only if it comes up. I'm not going to go around telling people that I was in jail and what I did to go there." I glanced at him. "Look, this conversation started because Delhoun said that you need to be controlled with you're taking your medicine."

"It's not like he's wrong. You've seen me lose it in the past. Remember when I punched Hicks, and tackled the guy replacing you as smartgunner?"

"How can I not forget?"

"Anyway, the point is that he's not wrong, but I don't want to be locked in a room until that bottle's empty."

"Then, you're coming with us when we get Toby later today."

* * *

It was silent in the taxi as we rode to the Brisbane police department to get Delhoun's car back. Even the driver had taken the hint that none of us were all that interested in conversation after trying and failing to get us to talk, although Hudson announced that he needed to take a piss as soon as we got to our destination.

I was, unfortunately, wedged between Delhoun and Hudson. I know we had to set aside our differences for Toby, but Delhoun's pretty stubborn, and I don't think he was happy that I slapped him earlier that morning. Hudson's eyes were beginning to glaze over as the medicine's effects set in. His face began turning a pale green color after we hit a couple speedbumps.

"Try not to think about it," I said, even though I knew that wasn't going to help.

Hudson definitely had the look of someone who went on a roller coaster right after a heavy lunch. If the morning hadn't gone so bad, I would've thought this was funny. I also knew that we couldn't have him throwing up this soon after he took his pill.

When we got to the police station, I could see Delhoun's modified jeep in the vehicle pound. I figured I could do all the talking, since Delhoun would probably go into a flurry of curse words and Hudson still looked like he took a ride on the spinning teacups you find at a fair.

The officer at the desk looked almost like Apone, without the mustache and cigar. He looked up at us, and I couldn't blame him for getting the wrong idea about why we were here. "State your name and business."

"I'm Private Drake, and I'm here to pick up a vehicle," I said.

" _My_ vehicle," Delhoun growled. He then rattled off the license plate number to the officer, who then led Delhoun out to the lot.

I was about to drag Hudson along with us, but found he was nowhere in sight. _Oh, no, he didn't wander off to attack someone, did he?_ Just as I was fearing the worst, I heard someone retching in the bathroom near the hallway. _Never mind._

* * *

Our next stop was the veterinarian to pick up Toby. He was a little more lively than we last saw him, but he was still skinny and tired-looking. His paws were completely wrapped in bandages, and he was wearing a cone around his head. The vet showed us what they did, and, sure enough, a few of the Annexer's teeth were gone. We were given the medications and supplements, and strict orders not to remove the bandages from his paws for the next five days.

I sat with Hudson in the waiting room while Delhoun talked more with the vet. Frankly, I wish something more interesting happened, but instead, we just had a very mundane morning. Aside from Delhoun pissing everyone off, of course.

"You feeling better?" I asked.

Hudson nodded, despite still looking a little queasy. At least he wasn't sneaking up behind people to jump on them.

Sighing, I stood up, going over to the door to listen to the conversation between Delhoun and the vet. I didn't hear much of anything useful; it was just legal language about what they were going to do regarding Garrett. All I knew was that the vet had incriminating evidence in documents and the mark under Toby's thigh from when he was neutered.

I started pacing the room, bored out of my skull. "They're gonna talk forever, aren't they?" I mumbled.

I didn't think Hudson could hear, or was even paying attention, but he nodded.

It was tempting to knock on the door, but something was telling me that Delhoun was just going to curse at me, so I sat back down. Almost as soon as I was back in the chair, the front door flung open, and Garrett looked around before his gaze settled on us. "You two!" he snarled, pointing at us. "Oh, you two are going to _pay_ for what you did last night!"

* * *

 _Question of the Chapter: How might events play out differently if Hudson had never been poisoned? In a cruel twist of fate, what would've happened to Hudson if Drake had never been poisoned and he was stuck on Earth by himself?_


	11. Chapter 11

Garrett was careful not to raise his voice too much, or else he'd alert Delhoun and the vet as to what was going on. Before he could say anything else though, he pulled back his coat to reveal a sidearm, and went around the room quickly to lock all the doors, including the main one. With all the doors locked, he took his gun out, aiming it first at me. "I don't think I have to elaborate why I've got a bone to pick with you, blondie."

I gestured to myself when he said "blondie." Come on, a smart guy would come up with a much better insult than that. "You don't think it was some other blond Marine crawling around in the vents?"

"Your face isn't that difficult to forget." Garrett's gun was still trained at my head as he reached in to grab my dogtags and see my name. "Drake. I remember speaking to your 'commanding officer' the night after you broke in. You lied, you son-of-a-bitch."

"We can work this out like civilized people," I said. "All you need to do is admit you were wrong in hurting all those Annexers, and we can go home. It's that simple."

"I don't think it is. I needed something to do when I finally quit Weyland-Yutani. Working with androids becomes a bore. I knew I wanted to work with living people when I left, and I found my place in that community center with those who needed help. Do you think that after becoming an important figure to so many, I'm going to lay it all down for a bunch of disobedient rats?"

"You promised Delhoun you'd care for them, and you lied to him."

" _He_ lied to _me_. He's got you completely convinced that he's this innocent, harmless, little man who's never done anything wrong his entire life. He told me that his Annexers were trained and obedient, and they weren't; the minute someone touched one, they were scratched."

"Really? When you say 'touched,' do you actually mean they pulled the animal's tail, or picked them up the wrong way, or approached them in a way that could be interpreted as threatening?"

"You're just assuming that everyone in my program has the mindset of a two-year-old."

"And you're assuming Delhoun lied to you. I'm pretty sure his Annexers are trained and obedient; it's _your_ people who needed to be trained not to aggravate them!"

I sensed Hudson was becoming agitated, but I didn't want to move for fear Garrett was going to put a bullet in my brain.

Garrett then angled his gun at Hudson. "I take it you're just a grunt under Delhoun's control. That's why you tackled me outside the bar last night."

"N-No," Hudson said, shivering.

Someone knocked on the door from the vet's office. "What's going on out there?" Delhoun said. "Drake? Why's this door locked?"

"I have Drake and this other grunt hostage. If you try to open the door, I'll kill 'em both!" Garrett shouted.

"You are not helping your case by doing this," I muttered.

"I didn't ask your opinion." Garrett jammed the gun against my chest.

Anyone would say that it didn't take that long for Garrett to get in my face, but he completely switched his focus to me, and opened a wide window for Hudson to stand on the bench. I don't think stopping Hudson was a good idea here. In fact, I thought he was going to save my life.

Hudson jumped on Garrett's back, forcing him to drop the gun while he flailed around, trying to get Hudson off. I reached down to grab the gun, but that was pretty much all I could do; it was too risky to try and shoot Garrett while he was tussling with Hudson. I went to the office door, and unlocked it. "Delhoun, call the police. We have everything under control."

Garrett scrambled out from under Hudson, and was frantically searching the room for something to defend himself with. Finally, he settled on a chair, and raised it above his head. Right before he could bring it down on Hudson's skull, I fired a single shot into Garrett's right leg. Almost like he was in a "Looney Tunes" short, the chair fell on his head, rendering him unconscious (and bleeding) on the floor.

* * *

I can safely say that little incident set off a chain reaction of events that were set to occur over the next several days and weeks, all of which I wouldn't be attending. Garrett was arrested and dragged out of the vet's office, adding on a slew of charges to the growing list of things Delhoun was accusing him of.

Australian media wanted a few words from me and Hudson about our "ordeal," and I had to be honest; it didn't last all that long and it didn't take much for us to gain the upper hand. I didn't say anything about Hudson's condition and said it was all because the two of us are trained Marines. Of course, the newspapers and online outlets wanted pictures of us, and I was afraid that if wind of this got to the Moon, Hicks would assume that Hudson and I were getting ourselves in trouble.

I don't know what was worse; us getting in trouble, or USCM brass wanting to give me another medal. I don't want another medal. I don't want to experience another endless loop of self-pity. I just wanted to go back to base, and let things get back to normal.

Delhoun spent the rest of the day dictating notes to Aran, while Hudson and I tended to the Annexers. Given that I didn't have to worry about the ones in the community center anymore, my thoughts were turning elsewhere, namely to Hicks, Vasquez, and Miranda. It was a strange feeling to be looking forward to just sitting in a room with someone with the intention of "letting our emotions boil to the surface." I imagined that Hicks and I would be sitting silently at first, and then our thoughts would begin to fester, and then we would either burst into tears or just say whatever the fuck we were thinking about.

However, I know Hicks promised that we would do that as soon as he came back, but I wanted to see Vasquez first. Ever since Hicks mentioned that Vasquez hurt her shoulder, I've been a little on edge. I really shouldn't be, but I am. I want to make sure she's OK, and I'm getting tired of waiting. She's my girlfriend and my best friend, of course I'm worried.

And then there's Miranda. It's been two days since she said she didn't want to speak to me again, and I honestly hope she's rethinking that. Not because I love her, but because I want us to be friends without much of an issue. I should've known that trying to be just friends with someone who wants a romantic relationship, even though it isn't possible, is going to be somewhat difficult. Part of me feels like it's something we both need to give up on, but another part of me doesn't want to lose a chance to have a civilian friend, someone I can turn to when everyone else is bothering me, someone who can remind me that there's a whole world outside my job.

 _I have to make up with her._ I looked at Hudson. "Hey, I need some fresh air. Can you finish cleaning the cages?"

"Sure, man." Hudson dropped a sponge into a bucket of soapy water, then pulled it out to slap it on the floor of one of the cages.

* * *

The roads and sidewalks were still wet from last night's rain, leaving the air heavy, warm, and humid with the scent of rainwater. Without the smell, the heaviness and warmth reminded me of a fever, something I was all too accustomed to. At least I was far down the road of recovery from my encounter with the silver flowers. God only knows how long it's going to take Hudson to go down that road. It's been awhile since I've experienced any symptoms, so I wondered if that meant I was getting closer to being declared free of any traces of poison in my system.

I didn't want to think about that at the moment. As I walked into the travel station, I was once again directed to a phone, and waited patiently as the university robot patched me through to Miranda. My heart was in my throat, and every fear was playing out in my head. I had a strong urge to just hang up, but I held on.

"Is that you, Mark?"

I breathed a half-sigh of relief. "Yes, it is."

Miranda was quiet for a few seconds. "What do you want?"

"Just . . . calling to say 'sorry' about what I said a few days ago. It was wrong, and I shouldn't have said any of that."

"It's OK. I should've thought about what you said instead of assuming you were wrong."

The air didn't feel quite clear yet. "So, um . . . how is everything?"

"Boring and tiring. One more fucking final, and I'm done for the year. This is it. Next summer, I'm graduating, and then I'm leaving."

"You've come a long way. Don't give up. Are you gonna be staying in the D.C. area?"

"As far as I know, yeah. I don't think any hospital outside the state of Maryland has even looked at my record."

I snorted. "Maybe you can come work for my squad. We're always getting hurt or sick or whatnot. Actually, what we really need is a psychologist, but that's a different story."

"I'm guessing your team hasn't come back from their mission?"

"Nope, and I'm not sure when they'll be back. I'm guessing they'll be back before Tuesday, depending on when that new server arrives. My . . . My girlfriend got hurt. Sprained her shoulder and she can't lift much of anything. I'm going a little nuts worrying about her."

"Can you talk to her?"

"I can, but the thing is, we're keeping our relationship a secret from everyone. I'm afraid that asking to talk to her alone will look too suspicious."

"Why do you have to keep it a secret?"

"Well, it's not exactly something that's encouraged, and I would personally prefer it if people didn't know, just to keep them off my back."

"Ah. So, I should keep my mouth shut?"

"Yeah." I frowned. "You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"No."

"Good. Keep it that way, please."

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"I guess. Actually, there's . . . one more thing. I . . . I don't want to sound like I'm projecting the wrong idea, but, I just want you to know that I'm glad that we're friends. I don't think I've really had a friend in the civilian world, and I feel like having that connection . . . let's me know there's a lot more in the world that I have yet to see."

There was silence on the other end, and then I heard Miranda sniffling. "Aw, Mark! That's so sweet! I lo-" She stopped herself, and took a breath. "I like you . . . as a friend. I'm sorry, Mark, I-"

"It's OK, don't worry about it. You're not gonna swing me over with an accidental 'I love you.'" I grinned a little. "Take care of yourself, alright? Tell Mathias I said 'hello.'"

Miranda laughed. "I will. I'll still send you letters every few weeks. Maybe I should start sending pictures as well."

"If you want. I really don't care, just as long as they're of places and not of you. I don't think Vasquez would be too happy about that."

"Got it."

"OK. Talk to you soon."

"Bye, Mark."

Once we hung up, I felt like a small weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I'm not entirely sure what made Miranda change her mind, but I'm glad she did. Then again, something else could be going on that I'm completely unaware of, and she might not be telling the truth. There's no way she'd lie to me, right?

* * *

I haven't picked up my journal in more than twelve hours because shortly after I got back from calling Miranda, I was assisting Delhoun with the newly-freed Annexers. Most of them were in the same shape as Toby, and some were worse off than others. Of course, Delhoun remained infuriated at the fact that he couldn't do much of anything while he was blind, despite me telling him that he was going back to the hospital tomorrow to get the goggles removed, and his eyes checked to make sure everything was healing and the surgery actually worked.

After all nine Annexers were dropped off at the veterinarian to be looked over and operated on, I decided not to go right back to the facility. It was just me and Delhoun in the car, and I figured now would be a good time for us to pause and have a talk. I parked outside a seaside diner, and turned the vehicle off. "You hungry?"

"Not really. Why do you ask?" Delhoun replied.

"Well, I decided to take you out to dinner. Just the two of us. No Hudson."

Sighing, Delhoun shook his head. "You don't need to do this, Drake. I don't . . . I don't even deserve it after I've been such a crabby son-of-a-bitch the last few days."

"So, you realize a lot of what you said was wrong?"

"Of course I do. I think a lot of it came from the fact that . . . I can't see. I know it's not going to last forever, but I can't help but be afraid. I've been having nightmares about going to the doctor and hearing that the surgery failed, so I'm stuck like this for the rest of my life. I don't want to be an invalid. I don't want to become dependent on people. I don't want to look like a complete hypocrite to Garrett."

"How would going blind make you a hypocrite?"

"Garrett's program was for people with physical and mental disabilities. I'm suing him for hurting my Annexers. If I were to become disabled myself, that would make me look hypocritical."

"I don't think so," I said. "Wait . . . isn't albinism a disability?"

"Depends on how you look at it. I'm just lacking melanin, not brain function or a limb. The only help I need on a daily basis is sunscreen. I didn't need help learning how to read or perform basic tasks. I didn't need to learn an entire new language. I didn't need someone following me around, making sure I was under control if I had a fit. I can see how some might think I'm already hypocritical, and I can also see how some people might think I'm being cruel or sending the wrong message. I don't hate people who need help every single day. I just hate it when it's used as an excuse to hurt someone else, or an animal. Look at seeing-eye dogs; they're not abused. They're carefully trained since they were puppies. I guess . . . Garrett panicked when he realized Annexers aren't the same as dogs or cats or any other animal he could've used." Delhoun sighed again. "I really should've insisted I be more involved with integrating Toby and the others into that kind of setting. If I was just a tad more willing and helpful, none of this would've happened."

I thought back to that morning in the vet's office when Garrett was trying to hold me and Hudson hostage. "Garrett accused you of lying. He said that you said your Annexers were trained."

"Of course they're trained. They know not to pee wherever they feel like it. They know simple commands like 'sit,' 'come,' and 'stay.' They know not to jump on people when they're excited. I never said that they were specifically trained for being around people who may not be able to comprehend that this is a living creature that can't be roughhoused with." Delhoun shook his head. "Mistakes were made on both sides, Drake, and in the end, those that Garrett and I were trying to help and protect got hurt. Unfortunately, Garrett's going to be spending a lot of time in jail before he gets a chance to really correct his mistakes. If it's the price he has to pay, then so be it."

I nodded. "I know that all too well. Look, I don't think people are going to see you as a hypocrite. In the end, it's not gonna matter; Garrett's going to be seen as a nutcase because he tried taking two Marines hostage. The whole of the USCM isn't going to take that lightly, and neither is Weyland-Yutani. A former employee going bonkers? That doesn't look good."

"You got a point, there. Poor Garrett." Delhoun was quiet for a few minutes, and then turned his head in my direction. "I hope all that didn't take away from the original point of the conversation. You were trying to get me to apologize for my behavior, weren't you?"

"In a way, yes."

"Well, then, I'm sorry. When we get home, I'm apologizing to Hudson. He certainly didn't deserve my wrath." Delhoun gave a small smile. "I hope that clears things up."

I nodded again. "Good enough for me." I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car to help Delhoun. "Alright, let's go in. I'm starving."

* * *

I think, deep down, Delhoun had simply wanted time with just me, the way it was when we first met on the space station and how it was every time I visited. I can't necessarily blame him, and the thought brought up a number of ideas that I didn't want to say out loud. For the longest time, I've been looking to him for emotional guidance. He's given me good advice, but whether or not results are achieved is another story. Over the last few days, he's been experiencing the same feelings I experience regularly; vulnerability, insecurity, anger, depression, and a general mistranslating of emotions. After his surgery, he had the same mental fall I had after my first bout with the silver flowers. It puts us at the same level. It makes me see myself in him, a man I saw as intelligent and a little bit infallible. I think seeing him at such a low level allows me not only to feel like I can help him, but to help myself as well, by seeing the same pain in another's eyes.

Or maybe he's just really fucking bored and wants to get away from Hudson.

That time alone with Delhoun gave me the chance to talk to him about Hicks and Vasquez and Miranda. The way his face lit up when I started telling him my issues said to me that he enjoyed feeling like everything was normal again. He liked me coming to him for help. It made him feel like he had value to someone who wasn't an Annexer. The fact that he enjoyed my company made me feel better as well. I've known for the last month that we consider each other friends, but being friends is more than you know each other, you don't hate each other, and you know a little bit about each other. You gotta trust each other, understand each other's problems, and better your lives. It's something that . . . I wish I know how to write about, but the depth reaches points that you yourself can't put to words. Basically, Delhoun is my best guy friend. And no one tops Vasquez.

It wasn't until I started digging into a slice of cake full of hot fudge that my usual sadness and loneliness began creeping back up. Why was it still there when I was having a good time with someone? Unfortunately, Delhoun couldn't see that the color was slowly draining from my face, and my smile was fading. However, that didn't mean he couldn't ask if I was OK, and I was honest when he did.

"I'm not terribly upset, but it feels like it's sitting on my back," I said.

"Like Winnie when you try to have a little privacy in the bathroom?" Delhoun asked.

I grinned. "Exactly." Funny as that was, it didn't make me feel a hundred percent better. Of course, I was still worried about Vasquez, and my future talk with Hicks was still hanging in the air. Those were things that I wouldn't feel better about until they were actually standing in front of me.

* * *

Three boring days passed. What more can I say? In those three days, Delhoun got his goggles taken off, and the surgery was declared to be a success. The doctors said that he shouldn't be worried about anything for another fifteen years.

You'd think things would start to go back to normal now that Delhoun can see. In a small way, they did, but Delhoun became a little pushy and told Hudson, Aran, and I not to do anything while he went around and tended to just about every Annexer in the building. What can I say? He missed his animals. A lot.

The best part so far was receiving the news that the new server arrived on the Moon, and the rest of the squad was returning to Australia. That was good to hear, but it also put a lot of weight on my shoulders. When we received the transmission from Apone and Hicks, I didn't ask about Vasquez, and they didn't say anything about her. I wanted to assume that meant she was going to be OK, but I was gradually becoming more and more anxious as time went on. In fact, since we got that news, time has seemed to slow down.

Two days before the squad was scheduled to return, I was almost a wreck. I was tossing and turning, and having nightmares. I was actually losing weight despite how good I was eating. The Annexers could smell my anxiety, and it made them start pacing their cages, making squeaky chattering sounds as they went. I knew I wasn't going to get any sleep that night, but Delhoun said that he was going to make me sleep because he was tired of the Annexers screeching and me waking up, gasping for breath from nightmares.

His solution? Hot chocolate.

"It's not just any ordinary hot chocolate," he said. "It's milk, a little bit of syrup, and half a Hershey's bar."

He didn't give me a complete list of ingredients, though. I had conked out really fast after finishing, and woke up feeling sluggish and tired. For a moment, I wondered if Delhoun had put alcohol in the hot chocolate, but Aran confirmed that it was just a couple of sleeping pills. Honestly, you'd think someone of Delhoun's intelligence would come up with something far more creative than just putting sleeping pills in a hot beverage.

When we finally got word that the rest of the Marines had landed in Sydney, Hudson and I threw our stuff in our bags and made sure we didn't leave anything behind (and, yes, I watched Hudson while he put his medicine in his pants pocket). Before we headed out, Delhoun poured us some champagne. "We had a very bumpy ride this past week," he said, "but at least we remained friends in the end. Cheers."

We raised our glasses and drank. It was a bittersweet feeling to be leaving, but I also knew that if we stayed around much longer, we were all going to drive each other crazy. After each having a glass of champagne, Hudson and I picked up our bags, said "So long" to Delhoun, and left the property. I glanced back once to see Delhoun waving to us, and all I could do was hope we weren't going to be transferred from Australia for a long time.

* * *

I guess the one thing I was happy about was having my own bathroom again. We still had over an hour until everyone was supposed to come back, so I got in the shower and thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of privacy. It felt so good to not have someone standing next to me.

When I got out of the shower, I began unpacking my clothes and separating the clean from the dirty. The base was silent; so silent that I could hear my heart beating in my ribcage. As I carried my dirty clothes down to the laundry room, I heard familiar voices behind me, and looked over my shoulder to see the rest of the squad entering the hallway.

"Hey, Drake," Hicks called.

I simply nodded, unsure of what to say. With no response, I headed to the laundry room, and dropped my clothes in a machine. Whoever was put on laundry duty this week would take care of it.

I heard Hicks tell everyone to unpack their stuff and rerack their weapons-except for Vasquez. Someone else would handle her smartgun while she went to her room. I made sure no one was around when I followed her into the room, and closed the door behind me. "Hi, honey."

Vasquez turned to face me. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped.

"Are you OK?" I stepped closer to her, taking a look at the sling she was wearing.

"I'm fine. Nothing for you to worry about." Vasquez glanced at me. "You miss target practice, huh? You realize we haven't done any actual target practice in awhile, right? That was your dumbest code term yet."

I grinned, gently putting my arms around her. "Well, I had to say something. I knew you were hurt, and I wanted to make you feel better." I kissed her cheek. "You wished I was there, didn't you?"

"Of course I did! Day in and day out, or whatever qualifies as day on the fucking Moon." She sighed. "I wished I could've told Hicks not to say anything to you."

"Why?"

"Because I knew you were gonna worry."

"I'd be worried even if you didn't get hurt."

Vasquez rolled her eyes. "Figured you would." She looked up at me, and tried to hug me as tight as she could with her good arm. "I missed you, Drake."

"Uh-oh, somebody's getting mushy." I laughed. "I missed you, too, sweetheart. Here, let me unpack your stuff."

"No, I can do it."

"You should be resting and not moving your shoulder. I'll put your stuff away. Just tell me where you store everything."

"Drake!" Vasquez tried to push me away from her bag. "I can do this myself. Go away."

"But I don't wanna go away." I reached over her to unzip the duffel bag. "Besides, this coat is too heavy for you."

"This isn't funny anymore. Get your hands out of my bag!" She slapped me. "I won't feel better until you stop."

I frowned. "Can I at least hang up your coat?"

Vasquez sighed, and rolled her eyes. "Fine. Hang up the coat." She pulled her shirts out of her bag, and tried to fold them with her good hand.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" I asked, standing behind her. "It'll take you forever to put all that away with just one arm."

She thought for a moment, and said, "Then can you be my left arm?"

I kissed her while we worked cooperatively to fold her shirts and put them in the dresser. I'll admit, I did get a little annoying, but I had a feeling that Vasquez had really, really missed me. She did make me promise that I wouldn't get overly fussy while she recovered, and I hope that's a promise I can keep.

When I finished helping Vasquez, I began hurrying down to Hicks's quarters. Surely, he kept his promise, right? The door was closed, so I knocked and said, "Hicks? Remember you said we'd talk when you got back?"

I heard coughing, and Hicks replied, "Be careful when you come in here. Cover your nose and mouth with your shirt."

My heart started beating faster as I slowly turned the doorknob. It skipped a few beats completely when I entered Hicks's room; he was sitting at his desk, covering his face with one of his shirts, and his duffel bag was on the bed.

In the bag, resting on top of a pair of PT shorts, was a partially wilted silver flower.

* * *

 _Question of the Chapter: Has Hudson repaid his debt to Drake for saving his life? Or is Drake so bent on being undeserving of everything that repaying a debt isn't possible?_

 _Author's Note: Ah, the excruciatingly long final chapter is here. I did my best to tie up the loose ends. If something doesn't feel quite finished, I'd appreciate the feedback.  
_

 _One of the things I'm glad about is getting Drake and Vasquez back together, even though they get to spend a lot of time with each other in this story. The only spoiler I have for the next one is that they won't be separated.  
_

 _I went back and read some of the earlier stories. It's interesting to see how Drake and Delhoun's friendship has progressed, but one thing I noticed was how I didn't pay that much attention to Delhoun's development over the course of "Silver Flower," "Humidity Ghosts," and "Grey Hearts." I established the basics (his appearance and his occupation), and then slowly built his personality through his interactions with Drake. I hope I didn't commit a writing sin with waiting so long to give Delhoun's character the big push. Happy reading - Cat._


End file.
